Unhealthy Obsession
by Bookwrm389
Summary: He had been told more than once that he had an unhealthy obsession with Fox McCloud. Wolf wasn't one to argue, either then or now. No matter the time or the context, whether in the air or on the ground, he never could say no to a challenge. Wolf/Fox.
1. Chapter 1

_A.N. Note to self. Do not attempt to write five stories at once. Nothing will ever get done that way. Hello again, my fellow Wolf/Fox shippers! Sorry this isn't much of a Christmas fic, but it's what I've been working on all autumn and just happened to be finished around this time, so...Merry Christmas?_

 _...also, I seem to have a strange habit of taking inspiration from songs lately. It's a surefire sign you're obsessed with a pairing when EVERY song you hear reminds you of it in some way. For your listening pleasure, I HIGHLY recommend two songs that are present in this story and basically responsible for its entire existence. So put on those headphones and revel in some good old fashioned rock and roll!_

 _"I Hate Myself For Loving You" by Joan Jett & The Blackhearts  
"Secret" by Heart_

Chapter One

Gulls shrieked overhead and foamy waves crashed against the breakwater, the sounds of nature nearly loud enough to drown out the noisy chatter of hundreds of people crowding the boardwalk. Some like him watched the vivid colors of the sunset while others wandered idly, either alone or in tight-knit groups, and sought out whatever entertainment there was to find in the oceanside metropolis. It truly was impressive how rapidly Zoness had dug itself out of its literal shithole and built back up since the war, from toxic waste dump to hot tourist magnet in the time it took to blink. While the deepest depths of the ocean were still defiled in some places, there was no sign of it up on the surface where briny water reflected the clear cerulean of the sky, stunning and immaculate, the sort of natural beauty that was timeless and gave the impression of enduring splendor. As if nothing could sully it, not even the gritty touch of civilization.

And Wolf was glad of it. He leaned on the wooden rail and gazed out at the red sun and the gathering storm on the horizon, breathing deeply of an atmosphere no longer polluted. For once he didn't even want a cigarette because that would spoil the whole experience of being here again. The last time Wolf had come to Zoness, he had only been a child. Just a little pup kicking at the waves, feeling as though he could run forever on those white beaches and endless boardwalks, and he never tired of watching the moon rise over the water at night. Maybe it wasn't the usual thing for a lupine to enjoy the tropics so much when his species was more suited to temperate climates, but you know what, screw biology. Of all the planets and ecosystems that Lylat had to offer, Wolf would have gladly settled here if he could.

 _Sure, once I'm a retired billionaire without a bounty on my head, let's discuss it then_ , Wolf thought with a trace of cynicism. He tugged his windbreaker a little tighter as the breeze picked up. That squall would hit the shore soon and he didn't want to be caught in it. Wolf straightened and sauntered along the boardwalk, one hand brushing the rail as he stole glances at the ocean. He hadn't liked what Andross did to this place. He hadn't even known until near the end of the war when Star Fox made their stealth run to liberate the planet and—for propaganda reasons—allowed every single news channel to broadcast the footage shot from their Arwings. Not for the first time Wolf had been sickened at the things his side had done, nowhere near what he had signed up for. Overthrow the Cornerian ruling class and establish a new order? Sure, count him in. Take down Star Fox and any other mercenary or military squadron standing in the way? No objections there, as long as the money was good.

But...massacre countless aquatic civilians and destroy a perfectly good planet for no reason? _That_ had been taking it a little far. That had been the breaking point. The person he had been back then—the troubled runaway turned revolutionary, so young and brash and brimming with anger at the universe—suddenly had his eyes opened and realized just how deep was the hole he had dug for himself. If Andrew hadn't been so loyal to his uncle and Pigma hadn't been such a fucking prick, Wolf would have taken his team and fled to the edge of the system until everything blew over.

The only thing that held him back had been a very reasonable fear of what Andross would do in retaliation. That, and...Wolf could admit he had selfishly yearned for another shot at the younger McCloud. The pup had put up a hell of a fight on Fichina, despite being forced to turn tail and run in the end, but that single skirmish hadn't been enough. Because as long as Fox was alive and flying, it meant Wolf still hadn't proven himself as the better pilot, and so he stayed on Venom to settle it once and for all. No matter the outcome of the war, Wolf had wanted the recognition, the notoriety, he wanted the universe to hold _him_ up as the legendary pilot who rose above his crapsack life, clawed his way to the top of the food chain and crushed the McCloud legacy into dust.

Not that these things have a way of turning out as planned. The memory had haunted him for years. Waking up in a field hospital inside a Venomian-controlled base on Fortuna, bandaged all to hell and drugged up to his ears. Watching the award ceremony on the flickering holo in the corner, Fox and his team looking so tired but so _proud_ , and barely resisting the urge to scream and chuck his food tray. Wolf had everything before that moment—rank, respect, money, the freedom to live and act as he pleased—and in one swoop it had all been taken away. It should have been _him_ on that stage, humbly collecting his reward for liberating Lylat from an archaic regime. But instead he was a war criminal, a penniless drifter in a system that hated his guts. Absolutely _nothing_ to show for all those years of hard work.

All because of Fox McCloud...

Someone bumped Wolf and jolted him from his thoughts. An adolescent leporid in swimming trunks and sandals wrenched his gaze from the comm in his hands, the tunnel vision of texting slow to leave his eyes. "Oh, sorry about that," he mumbled.

"No problem," Wolf said, not really meaning it, and brushed past the leporid without further comment. But he sensed eyes on him and glanced to the side where the window of a bar and grill offered a perfect reflection of the boardwalk. It also showed that the teen had frozen mid step and done a double take at Wolf's back, openly gawking. But the teen seemed to shake it off and went back to his comm. As his thumbs tapped away at the screen, Wolf could already guess at the text taking form. _**Dude! Just saw a guy on the boardwalk, looks like that one dude from Star Wolf! Should I get a pic?**_ With any luck, his friends were sensible and would answer something along the lines of, _**Dude, are you crazy? Run the other way!**_

Before the leporid could get any ideas about taking a closer look, Wolf ducked quickly through the narrow space between the bar and its neighbor, a frozen yogurt shop, then flagged down a taxi on the first street he came to—a streetcar, not a hovercar, Zoness being very strict about air traffic. The squat amphibian behind the wheel waited for him to settle comfortably in the backseat and honked his horn multiple times to scatter the pedestrians in his path.

"Where to?"

"The Catstail," Wolf said with a mental snort at the name. The amphibian made no comment and drove while Wolf adjusted the sunglasses on his face. A pitiful disguise for his scars and missing eye, but his options were few out in the open like this. Somehow it never failed that whenever he wanted most to be incognito, those were the times when he was most likely to be recognized. And inevitably, on those few occasions when Wolf _wanted_ to be acknowledged for who and what he was, those were the times when nobody looked at him twice.

Fox was probably one of the few in the universe who understood the irony.

"Gonna be about twenty minutes with this traffic," the driver informed him and waved at the congested intersection ahead, which had slowed the taxi to a crawl.

"That's fine," Wolf replied. The driver nodded and went back to ignoring him, which was fine with Wolf. He had no idea where this nightclub was exactly and was in no mood to wander the streets and possibly be recognized again. He checked the time on his comm and grimaced when it read 02:35 local time. 02:35. In the _morning_.

Something in his expression drew the attention of the driver in the rear view mirror. "Visiting from off planet?"

"Yeah," Wolf admitted. Polite small talk, unlike rude silence, was always the best way to make himself forgettable. "Can't get used to the circadian cycle here, it's completely fucked up."

The amphibian grunted. "That's Zoness. Twenty-eight hours of daylight, four hours of nightlife, and if you're lucky you can catch a nap with the next solar eclipse. Takes some getting used to."

"You're a local?"

"Nah, retired," the amphibian told him. "The wife and I, we thought a warmer climate would agree with us, so here we are with _all_ the traffic and the parties and youngsters keeping things rowdy at all hours of the day and night...not to mention the kids and grandkids popping in and out every other weekend just for a visit. Not that I mind having the tads underfoot, their cute little buggers and my wife spoils them rotten, but one of these days I swear I'm cashing out and buying one of those private islands on Aquas just for some peace and quiet..."

Wolf made a noise of agreement and let him ramble on unchecked, chin propped in his hand, gaze roving absently over the crowds and shops as they crawled through the downtown. Depending on the drive and how long Wolf spent waiting in line, he might be quite a bit late. But whatever. Fox would wait, like it or not, and bitch at him like he tended to once Wolf finally did show up, but that was nothing to end the world over.

Wolf allowed himself a pleased grin, the urge to chuckle bubbling up from nowhere, caught in one of those rare moods when he could step outside his own thoughts and appreciate the incongruity of it all. He was on his way to a nightclub to meet with Fox McCloud. He was _looking forward_ to being with Fox McCloud. His adversary, the one who shot him down in a fiery wreck on Venom, then proceeded to steal every shred of glory that should have belonged to Wolf. His rival, the one pilot alive who could match him in a dogfight. His antithesis in every way imaginable, a man that Wolf had every reason to hate and who had once hated him in turn.

And two months ago, Wolf had woken up to a strange hotel room, a massive hangover, and that very same Fox McCloud hogging half the mattress as his side.

Wolf bit his knuckle to keep from howling in laughter. At the time he'd had no clear memory of what happened to put them in that position. Alcoholic blackout had a way of doing that. But judging by the wrecked linens, the lack of clothes and weapons, and the lingering reek of sweat and sex in the air, it had been a wild night indeed. Being a man accustomed to dealing with unexpected and stressful situations, Wolf had done the only thing that made sense at the time. He freaked the hell out, swearing at the top of his lungs and shoving Fox out of his arms and right off the bed. Fox told him later it had been the rudest wake-up call he ever received, including the one time he woke in his academy dorm with twin fennecs sprawled on top of him while his roommate, Bill Grey, gleefully snapped pics.

Angry words and accusations had been hurled back and forth, once they both recovered from the shock and realized they could not deny the facts and the damning evidence written all over their bodies. Fox had been more ferocious than Wolf had ever seen, fists raised and tail fluffed out, the look in his eyes cycling rapidly from rage to fear and back again, convinced that Wolf had drugged him and seduced him for reasons unknown while Wolf had blindly accused Fox of the exact same thing. They nearly came to blows right there in the room, Fox armed with a lamp and Wolf with a pillow, poised to beat the ever-living crap out of each other...until someone knocked on the door and a cheerful maid walked in wheeling a trolley with a sumptuous breakfast laid out. The poor enhydra had taken one look at the two unclothed men and retreated with a mortified cry, babbling nervously that she would make sure they weren't disturbed again. In the awkward moment following, the two mercenaries had stared blankly from the food to each other, and the strained silence was broken by Fox blurting out the morning's most pointless question.

 _When did we order room service?_

The inquiry had gone unanswered, but the interruption had the effect of calling them back to reality, all thoughts of violence wheezing away like a punctured balloon. Wolf put down the pillow, Fox returned the lamp to the nightstand, and meekly they gathered their clothes and dressed with their backs to each other. A few terse words were exchanged, remarkably polite all things considered, and a shaky agreement was reached to never speak of this again. Fox even made the diffident offer to let him borrow the shower before he left, which Wolf declined and he fled like a thief in the night. Running as soon as his feet hit the pavement outside, not stopping until he reached the city limits where his Wolfen waited, and almost within the hour he was back on Sargasso where Wolf snapped at his concerned teammates to leave him alone before locking himself in his quarters and taking the longest, hottest, soapiest shower of his life.

It was over, Wolf had told himself again and again. A mistake he could put behind him, a story for the grandpups if he ever got to that age. It never occurred to him to tell Panther and Leon what had happened. The former would have been delighted and bragged endlessly about his leader's bedroom prowess, while the latter would have urged him to use it as some kind of blackmail against Star Fox, neither of which Wolf had wanted. All he wanted at the time was to forget it ever happened and move on with his life.

"That's the place up ahead."

Wolf stirred and leaned forward to look where the taxi driver was pointing. A long line of young people was the first thing he spotted, extending for half a block and originating at a pair of doors roped off and guarded by bouncers. The neon sign above the doors scrawled _Catstail_ in such overly lurid, curlicue writing that it was nearly illegible.

"Thanks," Wolf said, digging out his wallet and paying with cash, which must have puzzled the driver since most customers found it easier to swipe a credit chip instead. He stepped into the open and strode to the head of the line, noting as he did so that many of the hopeful clubbers he bypassed were dressed to impress...or at least to get attention. The heels were strappy and sky high, the skirts mini enough to be illegal, and the males were all identical in their half-buttoned shirts and snug-fitting leather. Wolf glanced down at his own apparel—worn slacks and boots, sleeveless black shirt, the gray windbreaker over it—and mentally shrugged. If anyone had a problem with his fashion sense, they could take it up with his middle finger.

Nearer the doors, the press of the mob became too much to fight, and Wolf observed the bouncers with some consternation. Pushing past or bullying his way around would make the kind of scene he was trying to avoid, but he could be standing here all night if he didn't make a move. But the decision was taken from his hands almost at once. One of the bouncers, an ape with half his head shaved to display an impressive tattoo, caught his eye and crooked a finger. Wolf raised his eyebrows, but stepped closer anyway and waited with hands in his pockets while the ape consulted a tablet.

"Name?"

"O'Donnell."

The ape nodded and stepped aside. "Go on in. You're on the VIP list."

"No shit?" Wolf said in mild surprise. Not about to question his good fortune—though he was fairly sure he knew who to thank for it—he slipped by the bouncers and ducked through the doors being held open for him, ears swiveled back at the raised, indignant voices from the crowd.

"Are you _serious_ , George? That guy literally just got here, we've been in line for over an hour!"

"And you'll be at the _back_ of the line for three more if you say another word to me!"

"Come on, let us in! We want to see Marc! We heard he's playing tonight!"

The voices were cut off when the doors snapped shut, leaving Wolf to traverse a darkened hallway with branching doors on both sides and a beaded curtain at the far end. The walls shuddered from a powerful bass, the clamor raised to earth-shaking levels of intensity, and Wolf relaxed. He had been in places like this before and had expected some kind of techno or electronic crap, the kind of music that gave him a headache after awhile. But instead when he passed through the glittering beads into the club itself, he was nearly bowled over by a welcome blast of live rock music, the vocalist a female jaguar with spiky black hair, exultant beneath the spotlight with her bandmates occasionally illuminated by dizzying multicolored lights strobing overhead.

" _Daaaylight, spent the night without youuu... But I've been dreaming 'bout the lovin' you do! I'm over being angry 'bout the HELL you put me through! Heeeey, man! Betcha can treat me right..."_

Wolf took off his sunglasses, trusting in the darkness of the club to make the eyepatch less noticeable, and scanned the throngs of people crowding the tables and the bar, though the majority were swarming the dance floor in one amorphous mass. He hadn't known what to think when Fox suggested they meet here and was somehow taken aback to discover the pup had decent taste. The whole place had the feel of a concert more than a nightclub, the air thick with sweat and pheromones and cheap alcohol, a seductive taste that made him lick his lips with anticipation.

That said...

Wolf surveyed what he could see of the dance floor, frowned and squeezed his way toward the bar where he could grab a drink, keeping his eye peeled in all directions. A vulpine here or there caught his eye, but at a closer glance neither was the elusive one he was looking for. To avoid becoming lost in the masses, Wolf took his beer up a flight of cramped stairs to a second seating area on the next level up and soon found an open spot where he could lean on the railing that overlooked the stage, shoulder to shoulder with dozens of others who had the same idea. The song reached its apex almost the moment he arrived, and Wolf was nearly jostled out of place by his overenthusiastic neighbors.

"Watch it!"

The black-plumed avian who had bumped him scowled. "Watch it yourself!" he snapped. He leaned over the railing to whistle loudly. "It's fucking Marc, man! Haven't you heard him?"

Wolf rolled his eye. He had no clue who Marc was and couldn't care less, nor was he impressed by the frenzied reaction toward what he assumed was an amateur band. Although...now that he was listening, he could admit they were pretty good. The vocalist had an impressive set of pipes and hadn't dropped a sour note yet, though even she in all her glam-punk glory seemed to accept that she wasn't the main attraction and readily made room in the spotlight to stand back to back with the lead guitarist. Much to the approval of the nearest group of dancers who immediately swarmed the stage, clapping their hands and stamping their feet and screaming their heads off, reaching for the vulpine who was bringing down the house with his talented fingers.

Wolf caught his breath. For the first time that night he had spotted the object of his search, but not in the place he expected. Fox hadn't been lost in the shadows or among the other clubbers, but right there in plain sight. He was on the _stage_. Dressed almost as casually as Wolf in a graphic T-shirt and dark jeans, he was even wearing those damn sunglasses his father had been famous for, yet in that moment Fox McCloud was almost unrecognizable as the hero of Lylat. And he was absolutely _shredding_ that guitar. With all the aptitude and easy confidence of a master pilot at the controls of his ship, Fox coaxed the notes from that instrument without appearing to try, the look on his face lax and euphoric and fully enthralled in the music. Strutting around in the spotlight and so full of swagger, there was no question he belonged at the center of the adoring masses.

The club had been overheated before with so many warm bodies, but now it had reached unbearable levels. Wolf found himself panting without meaning to, hot under the collar and no longer comfortable in his slacks, riveted by the performance he hadn't expected. "I'm taking that home tonight," he whispered.

The avian beside him laughed in a way that grated on his nerves. "Yeah, right. You and everyone else in this club, good luck with that. I've never seen Marc go home with anyone. Hell, I'd say _I_ stand a better chance than the rest of these idiots. He's never said no to _me_ buying him a drink..."

Wolf curled his lips back over his teeth, annoyance and a brief stab of something more seething and covetous slithering in his chest. It took all the self-restraint he had not to break the bottle open on the avian's head, retaining the outward appearance of cool authority as his lips twitched with secret amusement. "Marc, huh? That's what he goes by here?"

"You know him?" the avian blurted out, all traces of conceit now gone. "You're a friend of his?"

"Something like that."

The avian was silent for a moment before he snorted and turned away. "No way. You're not his type."

Wolf smirked and refocused all his attention on Fox, who had just skidded to his knees at the edge of the stage and launched into an ear-bleeding solo that threatened to blast the speakers from the walls. He seemed unconcerned with all the hands attempting to grab at his legs, cool as a cucumber despite the sweat pouring down his muzzle and causing the fur on his neck to glisten beneath the blaring lights. But if Fox was tired or overwhelmed by the attention, it never showed. An instant later he had brought the solo to its glorious conclusion and leapt back to his feet with a flourish and a swish of his tail, one finger pressing the sunglasses further up his face, flashing the crowd a cocky grin.

 _God, how does he do it?_ Wolf thought with a fleeting rush of helpless longing, claws digging into the railing and scraping at the paint. The primal urge to charge onto that stage and throw the enticing young vulpine over his shoulder was almost more than he could take, and he had to remind himself to be patient. Fox wasn't going anywhere. Wolf had every confidence the night would end exactly where he wanted it to, with Fox warm and willing in his arms while the rest of the world looked on with absolutely no say in the matter.

Such a change from before...

* * *

 **Two Months Ago**

Wolf inhaled sharply and jolted from sleep, the sheets drenched with sweat and twisted up all around him. He was disoriented for a moment, panting and shaking and so aroused that it _hurt_. A pained noise caught in his throat as he automatically slid a hand down his body beneath the blankets, but that was as far as he got before the unwanted image flashed in his head again.

 _Bright lights and the giddy sensation of flying upward, the taste of alcohol on his tongue. Trapped between the wall of an elevator and a lithe young body, the latter pressing close in a manner that was wanton in all the right ways. A hard kiss as demanding as it was desperately sloppy, teeth and tongue involved, and he couldn't let the unspoken challenge go unanswered..._

No, damn it!

Wolf fisted both hands in the sheets and moaned his frustration into the pillow. He left fairly decent teeth impressions, adding to a growing collection, and he reminded himself to acquire a new pillow when he had the chance. That, and he needed to yell at the maintenance guys for screwing with the temperature again. It was way too hot in here. Shivering and leaving his bed behind, Wolf continued to fill his mind with the boring sundries of daily space station living, right up until he stumbled into the shower and twisted the knob for cold water. It hit him like a blast of Fichina wind, but he took the self-imposed punishment like a man and waited for his blood to cool. Only when he could take no more did Wolf twist a second knob and sigh as the water warmed, not about to let himself freeze to death because of this. Because of _him._

"McCloud," Wolf snarled hatefully and thumped his fist on the wall. He followed up with another curse and a much harder punch that bruised his knuckles. " _Damn_ you, McCloud! Fuck you!"

 _You already did_ , Fox smirked in his mind. Somehow it was always so easy to picture the brat. Grinning cocksure from the relative safety of his Arwing, a youthful face filling up the screen on the Wolfen's console. Conceited little daddy's boy and academy dropout, daring to challenge him in the sky that was his domain, daring to _defeat_ him and make a man eight years his senior look like a damn novice. Such a brilliant pilot, but so guileless and goody-goody that Wolf couldn't stand it. Fearless in the face of impossible odds, heroic even when no one was watching.

It seemed like a cruel joke that he could now add _great in bed_ to the top of that list.

"I hate him," Wolf whispered. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, himself or the universe in general. "I hate him. I want him dead. I want..."

 _I want you..._

 _Clumsy hands groping in the dark, frantically undressing, the anticipation almost more than he could take. Somewhere in it all they tripped and ended up sprawled on the rug by the bed. Fox snorted and burst into a fit of giggles, which Wolf took as the right moment to pounce and pin him, breathing the words in his ear while his hands snuck beneath hems and zippers, the giggles turned to groans and murmurs that begged him not to stop..._

Wolf shut the water off and abandoned the shower. Hands braced on the grimy bathroom sink, he stared down his haggard expression in the mirror and knew he was in deep, deep trouble. This couldn't be happening. Not to him. He was Wolf O'Donnell, commander of Star Wolf and lord of Sargasso and all the space surrounding it. A man completely in control of himself, his domain and his impulses. He knew who he was just as he knew who he was not...and he was _not_ attracted to Fox McCloud!

His expression crumpled, defeat etched into every line. Not even his reflection believed him. Wolf ducked his head, tail curling under and a faint whimper lodged in his throat. He had tried, damn it. All this time Wolf had done everything in his power not to think of that bizarre encounter. He hadn't even begun to remember the details until nearly a week after the fact. He would be doing the most ordinary things like flipping channels on the holo or flying in his Wolfen, and then he would hear the words 'Star Fox' mentioned in a broadcast or catch a lingering scent of vulpine in his cockpit...and without warning Wolf would flash back to that night in a random bar with Fox, both of them drunk off their asses and laughing like old friends at some inane joke. But even that had been fine. The flashes were startling and more than a bit entertaining, but nothing to lose any sleep over. Given time Wolf could have looked back on the whole thing with fond detachment and the lucid mindset of, _What the hell were we thinking?_

But then the dreams had started. Dreams that look what was left of his broken memory, those little snippets of sensation, and transformed them into very extensive, very _detailed_ fantasies that threatened to break his mind and left his body weary and aching and _wanting_. Over and over Wolf dreamed of the stumbling journey from bar to hotel to bed, remembered the way Fox had arched and cried out beneath him, those green eyes hazy and lusting and locked onto his like there was nothing else he wanted in the universe...

The distant ringing of his comm jerked Wolf from the waking dream, breathing ragged, and he realized with annoyance that he had made himself hard all over again just by _thinking_ about the pup. Ignoring the comm, Wolf jumped into the shower for another round of punishment and some minutes later staggered back to bed and curled up miserably with his eyes half open and itchy with exhaustion. It had been a long time—years, in fact—since he had been in this position, desperately wanting what he couldn't have. It shamed him, it embarrassed him, it wasn't meant to _be_ this way. He never had to deal with this during the war, mostly because at the time he had still seen Fox as a child, never mind his skill and determination to do what no one else had the guts to try. It literally never occurred to Wolf there was a body and a sex drive beneath that flight suit, why would it? He'd had plenty of other things to worry about.

But one night had been all it took. One night to fling open a new door and bring all his expectations and preconceived notions crashing down around him. Wolf knew what it was like now. Knew the exact taste and scent of him, knew what he was missing out on, and that wasn't the kind of thing that could be chased away by cold showers and punching bag therapy. His work was beginning to suffer, Leon and Panther were starting to notice, and what could he tell them? That his long-standing obsession with Fox had now taken a turn for the erotic? That he woke up most mornings with bloodshot eyes and the name of his rival catching in his throat? In a twisted way it actually made him want to kill Fox even more, if only to rid himself of the temptation to hunt him down and do some very questionable acts involving cuffs and chloroform.

 _It's not rape if I like it,_ the imaginary Fox in his head suggested slyly.

"Shut it, you," Wolf grumbled.

The comm on his nightstand rang again and jolted him. Wolf fumbled for it, but the unknown number vanished before he could fully take it in, cut off on the second ring. Now doubly annoyed, he shoved the comm in a drawer, rolled onto his stomach and dragged the pillow over his head like a child trying to hide from monsters. He would get past this. He had to. For God's sake, he wasn't in _love_ with the man. Wolf knew from experience that misplaced lust was only a temporary state of being. As long as he didn't give into it, as long as he avoided all contact with Fox in the near future, then the feeling would fade. Fox would never even know. Wolf bared his teeth. He would be _damned_ if he let Fox find out about this and hold it over his head. Wolf wouldn't give him that satisfaction.

For a third time, the comm rang. It sounded even louder and more insistent this time as if to purposely spite him. Wolf ripped the pillow away and sent it flying across the room, then leaned over to wrench the drawer open with more violence than necessary. This time he didn't bother to check the number before he brought the comm straight to his ear and snarled in a voice roughened by sleep. "Whoever this is, you'd better have a death wish or a damn good reason for calling, because I'm not in the fucking mood."

Silence for a moment before he heard an indrawn breath. "...holy crap, this is your actual comm sig."

Wolf froze, tail going stiff and throat locking up. His body reacted instantly to that familiar voice and flushed with heat while his heart tripped over itself much like his tongue was doing. He moved to sit upright and it took a few tries before he could gather himself to speak in more than a hoarse whisper.

"McCloud..."

"Yeah," Fox said, then added lamely. "Hey."

"What...wh..." Wolf faltered. He scrubbed at his face and tried to make himself sound just a _little_ less pathetic and a little more assertive. In the end it just came off as terse. "It's the middle of the night."

"Oh, sorry about that," Fox apologized. "Ah, it's noon here on Katina. I didn't even think about it, you must be on Cornerian standard..."

"Was that you calling the other two times?"

"Nope, don't know what you're talking about," Fox said too quickly.

Wolf could have very easily teased him about that. Maybe during daylight hours when he was actually dressed and not reeling from two cold showers and a very carnal dream, he could have come up with some lewd mocking jab without compromising himself in the process. But just now Wolf feared any allusion of that nature would backfire in the worst way. "Fine, whatever. How'd you get this number? I don't just hand it out to people at random."

Fox gave a rueful chuckle. "Oh, you know...the usual. Talked to some sketchy people, threw some money around. Asked Slippy to hack some satellites."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that borderline illegal?"

"I've got friends in high places," Fox assured him. "And the public comm sig registry wasn't working out for me. You're a hard man to get in contact with."

"Yeah, well...gotta avoid those damn sales calls," Wolf muttered, oddly pleased when that comment caused Fox to laugh outright. A sprightly, ingenuous sound that was exactly as Wolf remembered it.

"Oh God...the image you just put in my head! The great Wolf O'Donnell arguing with a telemarketer!"

Wolf grinned in spite of himself. He was beginning to piece together an image of his own, Fox lounging in some dusty backwater saloon with a beer in hand and his feet propped on the table, artless and laidback. Or maybe out on the tarmac where his Arwing was grounded, sprawled on the wing under the hot sun and surrounded by the vastness of the Katinan outback. And shirtless, of course, given how ungodly hot that planet could be...

He rapidly cut that train of thought. He was Wolf O'Donnell. He was goddamn _Lord O'Donnell_ , not some soppy teenager in a romance novel. And Fox was his direst enemy, not his fantasy come to life. Not his to have or want or claim, only to kill. Wolf covered the mouthpiece of the comm, angrily shoving away the smile and clinging to that more brutal side of himself, the vicious spirit of survival and self-serving vice that had brought him this far in life. He reminded himself that he would never forgive Fox for Venom.

"So. You went through all this effort for a reason, I'm guessing?"

"Yeah, I did," Fox said, the tone of his voice altering subtly. To anyone else he might have sounded composed, but to Wolf who was accustomed to putting on a similar act for his subordinates, he could tell it was just a pretense to disguise nerves. "Look...can we talk on vid?"

Wolf hesitated and glanced down at his damp and rumpled fur, uneasy all of a sudden and wanting to cling to whatever feeble shield he had. "I'd rather not."

"O...kay," Fox said and seemed thrown off balance by the refusal. Wolf listened hard to the silence that followed, but couldn't read anything from it before Fox exhaled. "I kind of preferred to do this face to face..."

"Well, we don't always get what we want, do we?" Wolf retorted. "Look, if you're not gonna spit it out and tell me what this is about—"

"You know what it's about," Fox interrupted. "Don't play stupid, Wolf. You know _exactly_ why I called."

It was so wrong and unfair that the sound of his name, spoken in that a stern brook-no-arguments way, could simultaneously turn him on and flood him with dread. And Wolf felt stupid for thinking he could avoid a confrontation like this. Fox wasn't the type to back down or let things lie, damn him, and the urge to just hang up and not deal with it was overwhelming. That should send the message more clearly than any words he could come up with.

But Wolf had never run from anything in his life. He would not be the coward in this or show such weakness before his enemy.

"We need to talk about...what happened between us," Fox went on with admirable composure and only the slightest break in his words.

Wolf stood and paced around his cramped quarters, accompanied by the quiet creak of metal and humming air circulation. The rest of Sargasso was asleep aside from the night shift. The room was as soundproof as he could possibly make it, and Wolf regularly swept every nook for signs that his personal space had been bugged. It should be safe...assuming the comm itself hadn't been hacked, but it was a little late to worry now.

"There's nothing to talk about. We got drunk, we fucked, we went home. End of story. Happens all the time."

"Not to us, it doesn't," Fox pointed out. "Look, Wolf..."

"I said _there's nothing to talk about,_ " Wolf snarled. He whirled to face the window and the stars outside, wishing he could fly across that void to wherever Fox was and throttle him. "I've got nothing to say to you, and there's nothing you've got to say that I want to hear."

"But I just..."

Wolf slammed his palm to the glass and raised his voice. "We _agreed_ , remember? We take this to our graves, we act like it never happened! Unless you _want_ me to go running to the tabloids, tell them all about how I made you my bitch for a night, and send your precious reputation down in flames?"

"Don't even try that bluff on me," Fox retorted, but Wolf thought he also sounded nervous. Good, he had him on the run. "It would ruin you just as much as it would me."

"You push me too far and it might be a price I'm willing to pay," Wolf lied through his teeth. He thought for a moment and settled on a different tactic, sneering and injecting as much ridicule as he could. "No wait, don't tell me...you liked it so much you're calling to see if I'm up for a second round? Flattered, but not interested. Unlike some people, I don't have an issue with getting laid any time I..."

"Oh my God, will you stop talking for _two seconds_ and listen to me?" Fox shouted. He made an irritated noise. "You talk too much, you know that? I swear the only time you ever shut your mouth is when you're fighting or—"

Fox faltered, and Wolf was eternally grateful he never finished the sentence. Partly because he doubted he could have come up with a coherent reply, but mostly because the words had given him a sense of déjà vu. As if he had heard them before, slurred huskily in his ear as they half wrestled in the gutter outside the bar...

 _You talk too much. Every time we fight, all you do is talk and TALK about what you're gonna do when you get your hands on me. And the whole time I'm standing around waiting for you to just shut up and DO it..._

"Shit," Wolf muttered. He remembered that clearly now. His blood had been up, his temper riled from the fight and petty argument preceding, and he had grabbed Fox by the jacket with the full intention of killing him. Or scaring him or breaking his face, one of those three, his intoxicated brain hadn't been thinking that far ahead. And it certainly changed its mind real quick when Fox used the opening to his advantage and, of all the stupid things, went for his lips instead of his throat...

"What?"

"I said you piece of _shit_ ," Wolf said heatedly. "What do you want from me, huh? You want me to promise I won't tell anyone? Because that should be a given."

"No, I know that..."

"Then _what?_ You want an explanation? An apology? Well, I've got nothing for you, because as far as I can see it's your fault we ended up that way! _You_ made the first move, not me!"

"...oh yeah," Fox mumbled in contrition. "I did do that, didn't I? Fine, that's on me, but what's your excuse? You could have walked away...you could have stopped me right at the beginning, but you didn't. Why not?"

"I was drunk! _You_ were drunk! A lot of things seem like a good idea when you're drunk!"

"Then why am I still alive?" Fox demanded, and that question left Wolf so perplexed that he let Fox ramble on without interruption. "I kept going over it in my mind again and again...you had so many chances. You had me alone and at your mercy for almost the entire night. At some point it should have occurred to you to slit my throat, like you've threatened to do so many times. So why didn't you?"

"I...I was drunk," Wolf croaked. He couldn't explain it either. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment his thoughts switched from _I want to kill him dead_ to _I want to fuck him senseless_. It seemed to happen all at once, like the prologue and epilogue mashed together with no substance in the middle.

"There's only so many times you can use that excuse," Fox murmured.

"Yeah, so what's _your_ excuse?" Wolf said, again blindly throwing himself on the offensive. "You...you were all over me, you wanted it more than I did! If anyone here has a right to ask _'what the fuck?'_ it should be me!"

"At least my excuse makes perfect sense!" Fox snapped. "I've been attracted to you ever since goddamn Fichina!"

 _Say what?_ Wolf thought and could have sworn Sargasso stopped in its rotation for a full five seconds. At least that was how it felt to him, the same sensation of giddy displacement.

"...okay, pretend I didn't say that," Fox stammered. "Look, I'm not asking you for anything, alright? I don't want anything from you. It's just...this whole thing has got me thinking. We've been fighting off and on and trying to kill each other for, what, five years? And what are we basing it on? The fact that we were on different sides of a war? That happens all the time for mercenaries, that's no excuse for the way we've been acting."

Wolf held his silence, deathly frightened of where he was going with this.

"I don't know you, Wolf," Fox went on more softly. "I don't know anything about you, other than what I've learned from dogfighting. We've never tried to get to know each other or have a civil conversation, and until that night I'd never even met you face to face. That doesn't seem right to me, and I want to change it. So...can we...give it a try? Can we meet somewhere and talk things over? Pretend for a little while that we're not enemies?"

Meet somewhere. Talk things over. Pretend for a little while. Deafening alarm bells went off in Wolf's head, curiosity and temptation warring with panicky misgiving. Fox was out of his little altruistic mind if he thought they could be in the same room without something happening, which could have been anything from mutual molestation to outright murder. And Wolf didn't believe for a second Fox had no other agenda than to extend a long overdue olive branch.

"We don't have to keep doing this," Fox added with a tinge of desperation. "We don't have to hate each other anymore."

"Yes, we do," Wolf whispered, the regret so thick that he had to clear his throat and stoke his anger anew. "Or did you forget I was on the _losing_ side of that war? You forget I lost everything, nearly lost my _life_ , because of what you did to me on Venom?"

"But that's over now. We can put it behind us—"

"I'll _never_ put that behind me!" Wolf roared. "And you're a fucking moron if you think otherwise! We're not all heroes like you, McCloud, I don't have the luxury of picking who my enemies are. And you've been number one on my list since the day we met! I've got better things to do with my life than try and make nice with Corneria's little pet mercenary!"

"You don't think _I_ have better things I could be doing right now?" Fox demanded. "Believe me, I don't make a habit of ruining my one weekend of shore leave just to call up a homicidal maniac who used to kiss the ground Andross walked on!"

"Then _hang up!_ Do us both the favor and let me get some sleep!"

"You," Fox hissed, perhaps struggling for something worse to say, but he gave up. "Fine. If that's the way you want this to end, then _fine_. I don't know why I bothered!"

The line clicked as Fox hung up, the screen of his comm irrevocably blank. Wolf stared at it for a moment and snorted. "Bitch," he uttered, carelessly tossing the comm on the nightstand before throwing himself back into bed. Only to realize the pillow was still on the other side of the room where he had thrown it. Wolf punched the mattress, went to get the pillow and made every effort to fall back asleep. He had a full agenda tomorrow, a team to keep employed and a base full of idiotic criminals to manage. He had system full of enemies and potential employers to keep appeased and a life that was taxing enough without the added difficulty of lusting after his rival.

Who apparently lusted after him just the same. If not more. Ever since _Fichina_. But that couldn't be right. It made no sense. When he thought back to the war and the dogfights they had been in, the threats and vile taunts Wolf had shouted in the heat of the moment, he couldn't reconcile it with what Fox had told him. Though he had a point about the mercenary thing. Relationships in their profession were...complicated, but as a whole it was understood that what happened on the job was always professional, never personal.

But it had never been that way with him and Fox. It never had the chance to be, not with the ghost of James hanging between them. That unspoken code had been broken long before they met. Fox should have hated him. Should _still_ hate him.

 _Homicidal maniac...is that really what he thinks of me? Was that all he saw every time we fought? Not a worthy opponent, not an equal, just a rabid beast to be put down?_

Slowly, Wolf turned his head toward the nightstand, eying his comm like it had teeth before he reached out an unsteady hand to pick it up. The screen glowed at his touch and his thumb hovered over Fox's comm sig. But he swallowed and forced himself to put it down again. No. He could not be considering this. They had both said all that needed to be said. Let Fox keep on despising him for the rest of their lives, let him go on believing that Wolf despised him in turn. It just meant all was right with the universe. Nothing good could come of trying to flip the status quo on its head.

Besides...if Wolf dared to take that treacherous first step, there was no telling what could happen next. Where would it lead? Where did Wolf _want_ it to lead?

He rolled on his back to stare at the ceiling and knuckled his eyes. Two weeks ago, if someone had asked him what might happen if he and Fox got drunk together, Wolf would have said with perfect confidence that one of them would be dead in a back alley by dawn. Now the thought of standing face to face with Fox, nothing between them but their own throttled inhibitions, inspired a whole slew of conflicting emotions, most of which had nothing to do with violence.

But he couldn't avoid it forever. The universe was vast and unpredictable, yet it had a funny way of trolling the two of them and contriving to throw them together on a regular basis. Like it or not, Wolf _would_ see Fox again, most likely on the job under opposing contracts, and what was worse? Facing this tangled web on neutral ground under temporary ceasefire, or in the middle of a dogfight when a split second of hesitation might cost him everything?

Wolf sucked in a breath and snatched up the comm, quickly punching in the command before he could let himself think better. It rang a total of six times before Fox answered, sounding prickly like a teenager with a bruised ego. " _WHAT_ , Wolf?"

"Fine, let's meet," Wolf said curtly. "But let me make one thing very clear. This is a business meeting, nothing more. And I pick the place."

"...fine," Fox said after an agonizing pause. "Tell me where and when."

* * *

 _A.N. This author's note was mean to be at the beginning, but ended up way too long. As you can tell for this story, I decided it was the right time to tackle a "how they got together" scenario, and I'd like to explain a little of where I'm coming from. I've read A LOT of Wolf/Fox this year, probably more than is sane or healthy, and that's more than enough to become sick of the same old scenario of "Wolf is madly in love with Fox for years, finally confesses, Fox comes to terms with his sexuality while slowly falling for Wolf." While I do understand the reasoning...I actually prefer it to be the other way around. It just seems more plausible for FOX to have the unrequited crush (being a hormonal teenager at the time of the war) while WOLF would be the one taken by surprise and struggling with being attracted to someone he spent years actively hating and trying to kill. Hopefully that doesn't give away too much right at the outset, but there you go. This pretty much comes from my own desire to see the trope flipped on its head and see how Wolf would react to NOT being the initiator of the relationship. Let me know what you guys think!  
_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 **Two Months Ago**

It was probably the most awkward business meeting Wolf had ever endured. Mainly because he spent the first five minutes of it hiding in the shrubs getting soaked from the rain and debating whether to just walk over there, shoot Fox in the head and be done with it. Sure, it would be the spineless act of a coward and he would most likely regret for the rest of his life. Sure, the other three members of Star Fox would hunt him down and make him suffer for it. But those consequences were bearable. Far more bearable than gathering the nerve to actually face Fox. He was already going to hell for the things he had done in the war, so what was one more sin?

Sucking in a breath and mentally steeling himself, Wolf stepped into the open. He had chosen the location carefully, a public park on the outskirts of Corneria City...though _park_ didn't truly do it justice. The place was practically an estate, all verdant lawns and wending cobbled paths among dense stands of trees and flowers, immensely popular with the city's inhabitants as a way to escape to another world without actually going off world. But on a day like this when the weather satellites were scheduled to generate heavy rain and sleet for the better part of the afternoon, the park was deserted and chilling in its isolation.

And this was where he found Fox, exactly as instructed. Wolf had watched him approach from afar and take shelter from the rain inside a decorative gazebo at the bank of the river, and there he waited. Perched on a bench with an umbrella dripping wet at his side, Fox seemed unable to keep still, feet tapping and hands fidgeting, alternatively staring at the river or twisting around to scan the wet foliage behind him. Wolf didn't blame him for being on edge. He himself had taken a leisurely lap around the immediate area just to be sure there was no ambush lying in wait. It would have been so easy for Fox to set up something like that, it would have been _smart_ for him to do that.

The thought made him pause as he reached the gazebo, a few steps behind and to the left of Fox, carefully studying his profile. Wondered if the uneasiness in his face was a sign that Fox had considered something so underhanded and now deeply regretted not going through with it. But if he was a fool, then so was Wolf. The sole concession he had made to caution was to leave a brief recording locked up alongside his living will, bluntly explaining to Leon and Panther exactly what happened and who was to blame if he turned up in prison. Or dead in the river. Morbidly, he wondered if Fox had left a similar 'just in case' message for his own team.

Wolf climbed the set of three steps leading into the gazebo, water dripping off his windbreaker as he pushed the hood back. And it only occurred to him then, when Fox failed to react and kept staring down the other path, that maybe he should have approached from an angle where Fox could see him. "Can't believe you showed," he muttered.

"Jeez!" Fox yelped and shot to his feet, umbrella clattering to the cement when his hand knocked against it.

Wolf stared at him, nonplussed. "Jeez? What are you, twelve? Who the hell says _jeez_ anymore?"

"...you scared me," Fox said, ears flattened from embarrassment. But where a lesser man might have let it shake him, Fox recovered and met him stare for stare, the silence between them thick and overwrought. Those green eyes flicked down and up, taking in his entirety at a glance, and Wolf forced himself not to outwardly react in any way. But inside was another matter, his thoughts in chaotic and ever-changing turmoil. Part of him bristled with hate at the sight of his enemy, while another quailed and begged to run with his tail tucked. And a third part still was transfixed by Fox himself. The white breath ghosting from chilled lips, the way his fur fluffed out in an effort to keep warm, shivering beneath layers of clothes that hung damp and heavy from a strong, youthful frame.

 _Makes sense why it happened now. Turns out he's kinda hot when he's not trying to kill you. Okay, let's NOT go there, you idiot. You're not getting any tonight so keep it in your fucking pants._

Neither of them had moved yet. Wolf realized at this rate neither of them _would_ move. He stepped forward, prompting Fox to tense and step back, and Wolf threw him a withering glare as he turned and dropped onto the bench, keeping his hands in his pockets and leaving plenty of room at his side. Fox hesitated, and Wolf tried not to watch that white-tipped tail twitching back and forth in consideration.

"I don't got all day, McCloud."

The tail stilled and Fox slowly approached and sat down, back stiff like he was ready to jump up again any moment. And he wouldn't stop staring at Wolf. Ogling him, almost, like he was some rare elusive creature that might vanish back into the wilds.

Wolf restrained the urge to growl. As if he wasn't jittery enough, now Fox had to irritate him on top of it. " _What?_ "

Finally, Fox blinked. "Uh. Sorry, just...this is a little weird."

"...a little?"

"Okay, a lot weird," Fox amended. He rubbed his hands along his thighs, either nervous or just cold, Wolf couldn't figure out which. But then Fox paused and shoved a hand in his pocket. "Oh, I meant to...here. You left that behind. Figured you'd want it back..."

The words trailed as Fox held out a very familiar eyepatch, the sight of which surprised Wolf. He'd been sure he lost it at the bar or out in the street somewhere, but beyond that had given it no thought. He tended to lose his eyepatches on a regular basis and kept a whole drawer full of replacements at Sargasso and a good half dozen stashed in his Wolfen. He was wearing one of the replacements _now_ actually, a fact that was not lost on Fox who had adopted a look of chagrined realization, the outstretched hand wavering.

Wolf plucked the eyepatch from his palm, careful not to let their hands remain in contact longer than a split second. "Thanks anyway."

"Yeah," Fox muttered and went back to moping at the river. Wolf fiddled with the eyepatch, but stopped when he realized what he was doing and stuffed it in his pocket. After some thought he dug out a cigarette and lighter, desperately needing something to occupy his hands and taking comfort in the habitual motions. Fox shifted and bent down to retrieve his umbrella, the soft whisper of movement the only sound to be heard above the falling rain. The silence dragged, slower and more agonizing than Leon's most creative and intricate tortures. Wolf took a long drag and peeked sidelong at his rival, caught his gaze without meaning to, and Fox looked the other way hurriedly.

Wolf snorted. "This is fucking pointless. Remind me why we're doing this?"

Fox sighed and let his shoulders slump. "Because we need to talk."

"Fine, I'm listening."

"I said _we_ need to talk."

"And I said _I've got nothing to say to you_."

"Really, nothing at all?" Fox said, and he looked so disappointed that Wolf was caught off guard. "Does it scare you so much?"

Humiliated anger surged through him, feral and frenzied, the heat of it burning in his face and rising in his throat like bile. Wolf snarled and slapped his hand on the bench between them. "You watch your mouth, pup! There is _nothing_ about you that scares me!"

"You sure about that?" Fox challenged him. He leaned closer. "Because the Wolf that _I_ know would never act like this. He'd never back down or refuse to face what was right in front of him. He—"

Wolf dropped the cigarette and lunged, hands latching onto his shoulders, and slammed Fox down on the bench so hard that he heard the crack of his skull against the stone. Fox grunted and hissed in pain at the claws digging into his flesh, eyes widened with dire fear as he struggled, but he couldn't budge Wolf's weight.

"And just what," Wolf growled, "do you think you know about me? Do you know how easily I could kill you right now? Do you know that, for the past five years, I've wanted _nothing more_ than the chance to make you suffer? And now I have that chance, you've given it to me on a silver platter. No friends here to save you this time."

Fox parted his lips, but no sound came out. He shuddered, chest rising and falling rapidly. "You won't..."

"You sure about that?"

Fox said nothing, but his expression hardened as the will to survive overcame fear, and a rapid twist of his body served to break Wolf's hold and throw him off balance so they rolled from the bench together. Wolf gasped when he hit the cement, the breath knocked from his lungs, abruptly finding himself pinned with a hand on his throat and the business end of a blaster in his face. Wolf's hand shot up to seize the blaster and turn it aside, just in time for the laser burst to miss his face and melt the cement instead. Frantically, he tried to fish out his own blaster tucked into his belt, but Fox caught on too quickly and knocked it from his grip so it skittered into a distant corner out of reach. That left them wrestling over the remaining blaster, locked in a stalemate with the weapon wedged between their chests and their faces inches apart, bodies aligned in a mockery of intimacy.

 _Oh, this was a bad idea,_ Wolf thought with ill-timed clarity. He tried to keep his head in the fight, tried not to notice how Fox panted and strained against him, but it was a lost cause. Now all Wolf could think about was how much he wanted to pull him closer, tear away those layers of clothes...

Fox hissed in frustration, breath fluttering against the fur on Wolf's neck. "Why is it that every time we meet, it turns into a fight of some kind? Why are you so determined to make me expect the worst of you?"

"Cause you'd be stupid if you didn't!" Wolf said and hoped his anger would cover all the rest. The slightest twitch of his hips in the wrong direction, and Fox could not fail to notice how much this was turning him on. Desperate now, Wolf shoved him off so they were lying side by side, still engaged in a deadly tug of war. "In case you forgot...you and I don't exactly see the world in the same way. Our teams have been trying to annihilate each other since the dawn of time. We're mortal enemies!"

"Only the media calls us that," Fox scoffed. He glowered at Wolf and set his jaw. "Fuck it. It's now or never. I came here for a reason, you know what that was?"

"To carry on the family legacy of martyrdom?"

"No. To prove to you it doesn't have to be this way."

And unbelievably, against all reason and logic...Fox let go of the blaster. Wolf roughly thrust him back and scrambled away with the weapon clutched tight in his grip, too stunned at first to do anything but gape. Fox remained crouched on the ground, merely watching as Wolf stood and trained the blaster on him, not trusting the situation one bit.

"What...what the hell's going on? What is this?"

Fox moved to cross his legs in a comfortable meditative pose, back straight and proud, hands loosely wrapped around his ankles. And he kept that same air of unconcern, at once resigned and defiant. "This? Oh, it's nothing. Just me. Giving up."

"Giving...up?" Wolf said in a strained voice. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You win, Wolf," Fox said with a little sardonic smile at Wolf's dropped jaw. "That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? To defeat me? To kill me? Well then, here's your chance. Do whatever your evil heart desires. I won't do a thing to stop you."

Wolf snapped his jaw shut with a perplexed shake of his head. A thought occurred to him and he double checked the blaster, but it was in complete working order with a fully charged energy clip. The melted spot on the cement was a testament to its functionality. He took aim right between Fox's eyes, finger crooked around the trigger. "There's a trick to this. There's got to be. You're not fucking suicidal!"

"No, I'm not," Fox agreed. "I want to live as much as anybody. But I'm _done_ with this. I'm sick of fighting you over and over for no good reason."

" _No good REASON!_ " Wolf roared. "You shot down my ship, you almost killed me! You won the war that _I_ was supposed to win!"

"Yep, life's a bitch sometimes," Fox said, nodding wisely. "Like now. Sometimes you get shot down, sometimes you lose an eye...and sometimes you go into a bad situation without any backup and stupidly let the enemy get ahold of your weapon. Sometimes you take a chance on someone, you put your trust in them and they let you down, like what happened to my father."

"Don't compare me to goddamn _Pigma_ ," Wolf spat. "Even I've got more decency than that. And I'm not gonna kill a man on his knees who's not even fighting back!"

"Fine," Fox said and stood up, arms held out at his sides in mute surrender. "There. Now you can look me in the eye when you do it."

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you?" Wolf demanded. Forgetting caution, forgetting common sense, he strode right up to Fox and seized his jacket in one hand, the blaster shoved under his chin. And still, _still_ Fox remained stoic, unmoved. "You think I won't do it, is that it? Because of what happened...because of _that_ , you think I won't have the guts?"

"Oh, I _know_ you have the guts," Fox murmured. He spared a fleeting glance for the blaster and a glimmer of fear showed in his eyes, his heart hammering against Wolf's knuckles. It must be taking everything he had to not defend himself. "But I still don't think you'll kill me. It's like I said, you've had too many chances already. If you wanted me dead, you would've strangled me in that hotel room. You would have pulled the trigger a long time ago."

"Don't think I'm not planning on it," Wolf said in lethal tones. "Maybe I'm taking my time, deciding how best to go about it. I don't just want you dead, remember? I want you to _suffer_ and beg me to stop before the end."

"Uh oh, classic villain boast, now I'm scared," Fox taunted. Wolf pulled the blaster away and used the butt of the weapon to strike him in the gut. Fox doubled over and staggered back a few steps, wheezing and eventually forcing the rest of the sentence out between coughs. "Am...I allowed...one last hero speech...before the end?"

"Make it quick, I've got some virgin girls waiting to be kidnapped and brought to my lair."

"Right, _girls_ ," Fox huffed with enough skeptical irony that Wolf had to bite his tongue. "I've...I've made my choice, Wolf, so now you have to make yours. Andross, Corneria, our teams...nobody else has a say in it. You can do anything you want to me. You can beat me, you can rape me, you can torture and kill me. Or...you could sit with me for half an hour and get to know the guy you were paid to fight a few years back. But _think_. Really think about it before you decide. Because once you've made that choice, the one thing you can't do is take it back."

"I made my choice a long time ago," Wolf snapped as his mind raced in five directions at once. Half his brain, as always ever since the war, was coldly calculating Fox's murder. A single shot to the chest, another to the head, fry the brain and heart so there was no chance of recovery. Steal and destroy all personal comms or electronics that could be location tracked. Weight the corpse with rocks and sink it in the river. It would be found eventually, but not soon enough before Wolf got his affairs in order and fled to the outer territories. There was work out there if one knew where to look, and he had people in Lylat who could cover his tracks, make him impossible to find. And what would it cost him, except another crime listed on his bounty, another act of ruthlessness to bulk up his reputation and make everyone speak his name in fearful whispers?

What would it cost, except the memory of Fox's dead eyes staring at him for all eternity? What would it cost, except the downfall of a man who, like his father, had let his heart and moral compass take him down in the end? Damn the man, Fox was too honorable for this line of work, yet he was a fighter to his very soul. Wolf could admit it now as he couldn't before, but there was a tiny part of him that had always loved that side of Fox. Whenever their teams engaged in battle, somewhere beyond the nerves and burning hatred and constant fear of death, there was also a perverted thrill in the knowledge that he was about to risk it all. That the enemy facing him was not some throwaway soldier, but another alpha like him. Someone who refused to back down or be beaten down, someone with the potential to conquer and destroy him utterly unless Wolf found it in him to rise to the challenge.

 _And now you have him!_ an inner voice howled. _He's yours, finally, you have him at your mercy! This is the chance you've waited for!_

But...was it?

 _Don't lose your damn nerve just because you fucked him and you liked it!_

But it wasn't just about that. He _had_ enjoyed that night...and not just the bedroom portion. His memory might be unreliable, but Wolf remembered the feeling it gave him to be there with Fox, to talk and laugh with him, to see an entirely different side of the man that he would never have glimpsed in any battle. A happy Fox, a mature and sensual Fox, a push-all-your-buttons-and-make-you-like-it Fox. A Fox that he could have welcomed into his team, into his bed, into his _life_ , if only the war hadn't happened.

And regardless of whether Fox lived or died today, it was a side of him that Wolf could never touch again.

" _GODDAMN IT!_ " Wolf bellowed, and Fox jumped at the shockingly loud curse that tore apart the silence. Wolf turned away and slammed the blaster down on the gazebo railing, hands braced, breathing hard and bouncing back and forth between relief and disgust with himself. "I fucking hate you sometimes."

"...does that mean I get to live?"

"Today, anyhow," Wolf grumbled, trying and failing to salvage his dignity. He shook his head with shudder of abhorrence. "I'll still kill you someday. But...not like this. That's not the way it ends for you and me."

"Oh man..."

He turned his head at the shaky sigh, a little perturbed to see Fox slump down on the bench weakly and pass a trembling hand across his face. "You alright there, McCloud?"

Fox giggled, choked a little and shook his head without looking up. "N-Not really...maybe? I don't know yet. That was...oh _jeez_ , that was an adrenalin rush. Can't believe I did that."

And he started cracking up, borderline hysterical, face buried in his hands and shoulders shuddering erratically. Wolf wrinkled his muzzle, ready to say something scathing and petty, but what came out instead was a snort of laughter. Fox jerked his head up and stared at him with such bewilderment that the snort became a snigger and then a full-blown cackling fit, and it didn't take long for Fox to rejoin him, their howls of mirth ringing in the air and making the rain seem distant somehow.

Wolf shook his head, little by little bringing himself under control, though it was hard thanks to the sight of Fox still chuckling to himself, sprawled on the bench with an arm thrown over his eyes and a drunken grin on his lips. Wolf briefly considered his options, torn between walking away to preserve this moment as it was or going over there and ruining it by kissing the smile right off his face. He compromised by picking up their blasters and tucking his back in his belt before offering the other to Fox, who accepted it gingerly and stared at Wolf with something between mistrust and incredulity.

"Move over," Wolf commanded. Fox complied, sitting up quickly so Wolf could drop down next to him. "You're crazy, you know that? And I always thought _I_ was the craziest man I knew."

"Funny, I always thought that too," Fox said candidly.

Wolf smirked and lounged back with his arms crossed. "Alright, pup. You've earned yourself half an hour. But this had better be worth it."

"Don't worry, it will be," Fox promised, and Wolf shot him a look, wondering if he meant for that to sound so inviting and subtly provocative. Fox flashed an all-too-innocent smile and turned toward him, nearly bouncing in his seat like an eager kit. "So then. Wolf O'Donnell."

"Fox McCloud," Wolf intoned.

"There's so much I don't know about you," Fox mused. "So many questions, I don't even know where to start. Let's see...easy stuff first. Where're you from?"

"Honestly, we're doing this?" Wolf sighed, already feeling exhaustion creep up on him. He took the time to light another cigarette, secretly relishing the chance to bait Fox when it was clear he couldn't contain his impatience. "Corneria, if you must know. Also lived on Macbeth for about a year, right before Venom."

"How'd you end up working for Andross?"

Wolf glared at him, hackles rising. "Jump right into the delicate topics, why don't you?"

"Oh, that's too personal?" Fox said, and to his credit he backed right off. "Well then...ah, I know what I want to ask you! What's your real name?"

"How is _that_ less personal?" Wolf snapped. "And what makes you think Wolf isn't my real name?"

"Yeah right, I'd love to meet the parents who'd name their kid _Wolf_ ," Fox snickered. "It's a callsign, don't deny it."

Wolf ground his teeth and began to contemplate first degree murder again. "Fine, yes. It's a callsign."

"So what's your name?" Fox pressed him. "And why'd you change it? Or is 'Wolf' just the shortened version for something else?"

"Yes."

"Which means...what?"

"Yes."

"...which means you're not planning to answer," Fox muttered, turning away. "It's like talking to a brick wall. Look, this isn't going to work if you don't participate."

"Thought I came here for a conversation, not an interrogation," Wolf retorted. "Just because you've seen me naked, you think that gives you the right to my entire life story?"

"No, I just," Fox said, pondering Wolf, and he shrugged. "Okay, would it help if I went first? Told you something about myself that you don't already know?"

"Well _jeez_ , I dunno. Try it and find out."

Despite the sarcasm, Fox beamed as if his victory was assured. "Well for starters, there's my name. It's not really Fox. My actual legal name is Marcus."

Wolf snorted. "Oh, please. Any idiot who's done his research knows that about you."

"Yeah, but not everybody knows the story behind it," Fox went on eagerly. "My parents actually argued about it when I was born. My father always wanted a son named Fox, but my mother wanted to call me Marcus after my grandfather. They compromised with Marcus Fox McCloud, but in the end my dad had the last laugh. One of my earliest memories from when I was four is walking into the kitchen for breakfast and telling them that Marcus was a stupid name and I wanted to be called Fox from then on. At the time I didn't really get it when Dad dropped his fork and started cracking up...but looking back now, Mom's face was pretty priceless."

Wolf blinked, somehow finding it easy to picture a pint-sized Fox stumping both his parents by having a mind of his own. "Huh. No wonder you had so many daddy issues."

"Need I remind you, we're trying to be civil here?" Fox warned him. When Wolf made no further comment, he leaned over and poked him. "So? Your name?"

"Forget it, not saying."

"Why not?"

Wolf rolled one shoulder and glanced the other way in irritation. "Because I can't fucking stand it, that's why. It's pompous and archaic and completely cliché for my species. Makes me want to claw my eye out every time I hear it."

"Lycus?" Fox guessed, frowning when that garnered a faint shudder but otherwise no reaction. "Or Fenris? Those are the only two I can think of, so which is it?"

"Yes."

"...your name is Yes?"

"Ye—No, goddammit!"

Fox burst out laughing at the look on his face. Wolf scowled, and as always when he found himself outmaneuvered, decided to take it upon himself to turn the tables. "How come you're asking all the questions? Do I get a turn here or what?"

Fox nodded and waved his hand. "Yeah, yeah go ahead."

Wolf licked his lips and allowed himself a smug grin as he leaned forward, the preemptive thrill already upon him like having the enemy perfectly aligned in his crosshairs. "So...ever since goddamn Fichina, huh?"

Fox stopped laughing and turned an uneasy look on Wolf. "I really did not mean that the way it sounded."

"Really, now," Wolf leered, thoroughly enjoying the way Fox pulled back, ears slanted down. "Cause the meaning was crystal clear to me. It's kinda funny, actually. The whole time I was trying to pound you with my lasers, you were wishing I'd pound you with something else..."

"In my defense!" Fox exclaimed, and he actually stood up and backed away as if physical distance could save him. "In my defense, I was eighteen and horny as hell and just getting comfortable with the idea of...being with another man like that. And for the better part of a year, I was also trapped on a mothership with two straight guys, a robot and my surrogate father. Do the math, Wolf. Toward the war's end, I was so hard up I was ready to jump _Falco_ , of all people."

Wolf chuckled. It was hard to take him seriously when he looked so agitated, talking a mile a minute, a deep blush showing through the fur on his face. "So why _not_ Lombardi? Even if he is straight, at least he's a teammate, not some random guy who'd sooner kill you for the money than jump in bed with you. What was it about me that got you all hot and bothered?"

"Do I really need to say it?" Fox muttered. Oddly, he sounded serious, as if the answer should be obvious. "Aside from the fact that you're a fantastic pilot..."

"Holy shit, did I hear that right?"

"Yes, I just admitted you're a great pilot," Fox sighed, but he winked in playful humor. "Not as good as me though."

"Keep dreaming, pup," Wolf growled, though he also smiled to take the edge off.

"Believe me, it was the last thing I wanted," Fox went on. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the railing. "It was just one of those things...right before Fichina, we had a briefing so General Pepper could go over what little intel we had on Star Wolf. He showed us some pics that an undercover operative had taken of you and your Wolfen, and honestly the first thought in my head was, _Why are all the hot guys working for Andross?_ "

"No kidding?" Wolf said, bemused more than anything else. Of course he was peripherally aware that some people found him attractive, despite his scars and his charmingly abrasive personality, as one of his exes had phrased it. But it would never have occurred to him that Fox might be among those admirers. _Especially_ Fox, who thought himself so high and mighty and looked down on people like Wolf as the scum of the universe.

"Don't flatter yourself," Fox said defensively, seeming to take Wolf's reaction for egotism. "It's not like I was in _love_ with you or anything, it was purely physical. I still hated you as a person and wouldn't have hesitated to shoot you down. I _didn't_ hesitate."

"No, you didn't."

Fox glanced at him sidelong, wary like he had expected a different response. "You know," he murmured, "in a way, it was actually safer for me to fantasize about you instead of my teammates. Since I was sure we'd never meet face to face, unless one of us was on the way to an execution block, I'd never have to worry about the consequences. There was no chance of rejection...or the opposite."

He fell silent, a thorny pause ensuing as they both begrudgingly acknowledged the irony of the situation. Wolf looked at Fox...and Fox looked at him. And suddenly there was absolutely nothing funny about Fox crushing on him years ago. Because, in Fox's very own words, it hadn't ended when the war had. It was still ongoing. And thanks to what happened between them, perhaps stronger than ever.

 _This can't happen, can't happen, can't happen,_ Wolf chanted to himself when he found himself suddenly, inexplicably, unable to break eye contact. His mouth ran dry as his traitorous tail swished back and forth with renewed interest, and he hated himself for his own weakness in coming here. Wasn't this exactly what he had feared and almost expected to happen? Now it was happening, and beyond the tantalizing visions of Fox undressed and straddling his lap, he could see his life falling apart, the respect of his team slipping away, the loyalties of his empire dividing until there was nothing left to call his own. Why was Fox making this so damn hard? Why couldn't he be the righteous little snot that Wolf had always envisioned, why couldn't he treat that night as an embarrassing secret and respond to Wolf's taunts with anger and ridicule and a drawn blaster?

 _Can't happen, can't happen._..

"Can't happen."

Fox started. "Huh?"

Wolf cleared his throat and went on brusquely. "We can't...let it happen again. It was a mistake the first time. Not interested in repeating it."

"I-I know," Fox said, voice catching slightly, but when Wolf looked again his expression was flat and closed off as he gazed out at the river. "I know that. I told you, I don't want anything from you."

"Just thought I'd make myself clear."

"I heard you the first time," Fox snapped. "But I still expect to finish this conversation. Unless you _want_ me to go running to the tabloids and send your precious reputation down in flames?"

Wolf blinked and chuckled when he recognized his own words being thrown back in his face. "So it's blackmail now? That sounds a little evil coming from the likes of you."

"You'd be surprised at the depths I would sink to," Fox informed him.

Wolf grimaced and checked the time on his comm. Only ten of the promised thirty minutes had elapsed so far. Resigning himself, he grunted and settled more comfortably into the bench. "Next topic."

He could have sworn Fox smirked, but the covert expression was gone in a blink, and he ticked off three fingers one by one. "Your first solo flight, your first dogfight, your first mercenary contract. Go."

"Classified, classified, classified," Wolf said, highly amused at the pout he received. "Fine. I guess there's no harm answering the first one..."

* * *

 **Present**

 _"...I want to walk, but I run back to you! That's why I HATE myself for loving YOU!"_

The final chords of the song were drowned out by a veritable storm of cheers and whoops all over the nightclub. Fox punched the air in juvenile victory, he and his bandmates soaking up the adoration of their fans. The avian beside Wolf let loose a shrill whistle, so clearly audible that it caused several heads to turn their way, Fox included. And Wolf couldn't withhold a feral grin when he sensed Fox's gaze skip right over the avian to settle on him and only him, noticed how his body stilled and his face lit up, tail thrashing around and broadcasting his interest more plainly than any overt gesture.

Wolf straightened languidly and basked in the feeling it gave him to be the center of another's undivided attention. Confident, wanted, all his wilder instincts roused to the fore. It was a boost to his ego, certainly, and with anyone else that would have been enough. But there was something incredible about the fact that it was _Fox_ looking at him like that. His adversary, his rival and antithesis in every way imaginable, the only one he would willingly acknowledge as his equal...and now very lately his addiction and unhealthy obsession, his lover in all ways forbidden. It was almost paradoxical how one man could be so many things to him.

Fox raised his hand in a _wait there_ signal, trading a few words with the jaguar before they both stepped off the stage. The rest of the band seemed not to mind their absence and did a quick shuffle about, one of the other guitarists stepping up to the mike and smoothly transitioning into another song without skipping a beat. Wolf heard a complacent chuckle to his right and turned to see the avian striding away. Obviously it was his hope to intercept Fox as he made his way to the second level, though he had some competition from the look of things. Fox wasn't even halfway across the dance floor and kept being accosted by clusters of overzealous fans all vying for his attention.

Wolf huffed quietly to himself. Some people just didn't know how to play it cool. Lacking the inclination to fight his way back downstairs to the bar, Wolf appropriated a bottle of water from some poor soul's abandoned bag—his fingers itched to take the wallet too, but he restrained himself—and he bullied a pair of canines until they gave up their seats on a cushy red couch, taking the entire thing for himself. And there Wolf waited, outwardly relaxed into the leather like he had all the time in the world, while inside a beast prowled back and forth beneath the cage of his ribs, snapping and snarling irascibly. Refusing to be soothed until the commotion from downstairs migrated to his level and at last he glimpsed a cluster of shameless sycophants approaching with Fox at its center.

So close...

His fingers clenched around the water bottle, embarrassingly eager. Every part of him wanting to abandon all pretense and close that last remaining distance, and Wolf nearly roared in outrage when that damn avian popped up from fucking _nowhere_ and made as if to take Fox by the arm, steer him elsewhere. But Fox deftly avoided the trap, squeezed between two chattering females, and dropped onto the couch beside Wolf like his legs couldn't carry him another step. They traded a look, a smile, and Wolf offered up the water bottle, smirking when Fox accepted with a tired grin and wrapped his arm around Wolf's neck, their lips meeting for an extended kiss that tasted of salt and the sweet musk of vulpine.

Wolf inhaled deeply, hands sliding down Fox's sweat-soaked back and feeling how his muscles quivered with exhausted stimulation. So warm and alive in his arms, brimming with strength and the vitality of youth, ready for more even when he was ready to drop. It made Wolf feel just as alive, and having his rival practically crawling in his lap was doing nothing to make his pants fit better.

Fox drew back and licked his nose, fingers splayed on his chest and toying with the collar of his windbreaker. "You're late."

"I'd say I was right on time," Wolf shot back. "Didn't know you played."

"Yes, shockingly, I _do_ have hobbies aside from flying," Fox said with a chuckle. It was only then that he appeared to notice the bubble of silence that had fallen around them as everyone either stared openly or tried not to. Fox tilted his head and shrugged one shoulder. "Sorry guys...could we get some space? Kind of on a date here."

His tone, though apologetic, left no room for argument, and the multitudes began to drift away in varying stages of shock and uncertainty...and in some cases badly-concealed disappointment. The avian in particular looked murderous. When Fox tilted his head back and chugged the water like a dying man, Wolf caught the avian's eye and deliberately nuzzled Fox's throat in silent, gloating victory. _Mine._

The avian trembled, chest puffing out and eyes taking on a reddish tinge. He made a fist and a vicious gesture that could only be taken as a challenge. Wolf narrowed his eyes and cast him a pitying look, then twitched aside the wing of his jacket to reveal the blaster tucked into his belt. Within two seconds the avian deflated, all his feathers sleeked flat, and it wasn't long before common sense overcame his bluster and he beat a sullen retreat.

Fox snickered in his ear, and when Wolf looked his way, he lifted the sunglasses to the top of his head and eyed him slyly. "I know what you're doing."

"Do you, now?"

"Never pegged you as the jealous type," Fox remarked, and Wolf bristled at the word and the insinuation it carried. As if the mere thought of someone stepping between him and Fox were not only unwelcome and upsetting, but downright rage-inducing. As if...as if he had any right to object or stand in the way.

"Feh," Wolf scoffed, glancing aside. "I just didn't like the way he was looking at me. Had nothing to do with _you_ , pup."

"Sure, that's the reason," Fox said blandly. Before Wolf could come up with a retort, Fox turned around and settled more comfortably with his head in Wolf's lap, ankles crossed on the arm of the couch. "Thanks anyway," he added. "Some people just don't know how to take a hint."

Wolf grimaced, torn between haughtily accepting the gratitude or arguing the principle of the thing. Because he hadn't acted out of _jealousy_ , no matter what Fox assumed. That would have been nothing short of pathetic. But even so...Wolf couldn't deny the pleasure it gave him to send the competition packing. And it was twice as gratifying to know Fox had no complaints or interest in anyone else aside from Wolf, so he settled on the latter emotion and dropped the scowl.

"So is that the only reason you invited me here? Free bodyguard services for the rockstar? Not that I mind, as long as I'm getting something out of it..."

Fox snickered and favored him with a frisky smile. "Are you asking to be my groupie?"

"Wiseass," Wolf snorted but let it slide as he played along, all else forgotten in favor of that promising glint in his eye. "We'll work something out, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," Fox repeated in a breathy purr, taking his hand and bringing it to his lips. Wolf sucked in a breath at the sharp nip of teeth and hot swipe of tongue, more than ready to get on with the night's main event, but that didn't seem to be what Fox had in mind yet. He exhaled slowly and lapsed into dreamy contentment, one foot jiggling to the beat of the music, like a man who had reached the end of a long and stressful week. Anyone who didn't know better could have taken him for a college student or a young intern out for a night on the town.

It was just the tiniest glimpse...but Wolf thought if he looked closely enough, he could see what Fox McCloud would have been like if he hadn't lost his father and been forced to carry the weight of Lylat on his shoulders at the tender age of eighteen.

"So."

Wolf jerked in surprise at the voice so nearby, having thought they were alone, and Fox stirred as well and raised his head. The jaguar from the stage leaned casually on the back of the couch, grinning broadly and with no shame at having interrupted their private moment, like their intimacy existed solely for her personal amusement.

The jaguar jerked her chin at Wolf. "So. You're the mystery man, huh? I wondered why it was so hard to set Marc up with anyone here at the club."

Wolf smirked and licked Fox's ear. "What can I say? Once you've had the best, everything else is lesser by comparison."

"Aww, thanks for calling me the best!" Fox gushed and laughingly accepted a punch to the shoulder. "That's Joan, by the way," he added for Wolf's benefit. "Best singer and songwriter you've never heard of. And way better than most people you _have_ heard of."

Joan held out her hand for a brisk handshake with Wolf, not at all humbled by Fox's description. "So what do I call you, sir?"

"He goes by Amaroq sometimes," Fox said, the remark so nonchalant that at first Wolf failed to absorb its significance. The shock of familiarity traced up his spine like chilled fingers, a feeling that had nothing to do with the foreign sound of his hated birth name and everything to do with the gentle knowing look that Fox was giving him. _How the fuck did he...?_

Joan tilted her head perceptively. "Yeah? Kind of like I'm just 'Joan' on certain days when I feel like it? And McCloud is only 'Marc' when he's trying not to be famous?"

Fox drew a sharp breath, bolted upright and whipped his head around so fast that Wolf was surprised he didn't break something. " _WHAT?_ W-What are you talking about? I'm not..."

The sputtered denial died on his lips as Joan smiled warmly and reached over to flick his ear like an indulgent sister. "Kid, you're a _lot_ more recognizable than you think. Or maybe that's just me. I don't easily forget the guy who single-handedly saved my homeworld. Not to mention carried me and half a dozen other refugees off a sinking barge on the wings of his starfighter."

"You...you were one of them?" Fox said, stunned and obviously recalling some heroic incident that Wolf had no knowledge of. But a quick discreet glance at the pale fur of Joan's forearm revealed a faded pattern inked into her skin, too precise to be ordinary feline markings—a string of numbers that Venom had used to mark civilians and POWs who had been enslaved and put to work at the sort of menial and dangerous jobs no one else would take. The sort that often left workers dead or maimed or so worn down from abuse and hard labor that suicide began to look appealing.

Joan waved aside his reaction. "I know, those filthy overalls made all of us conscripts look the same. And you had a lot on your plate then, so I'm not surprised you don't remember. But still...thanks for that."

"Uh, sure?" Fox said slowly, blinking once as he settled back on the couch, and his eyes darted all over the bar in paranoia, as if worried someone might overhear their lowered voices above the booming music. Not that Wolf could blame him, he was a little dazed himself. Not to mention if this woman could recognize Fox so easily, a hero of war and her personal savior, then it wasn't a far stretch to think she could also recognize one of the villains.

"Nobody else here has guessed, if that's what you're worried about," Joan assured him. "I figure you've got your reasons just like I've got mine. Your secret's safe with me...so don't you dare set down that guitar anytime soon, you hear?"

Fox hesitated and slowly shook his head. "I don't plan on it."

"Good then, enjoy your night," Joan said, smiling as she began to turn away. But on the way she paused and fixed Wolf with a discerning stare. "And you! I don't have to worry about being stabbed in a back alley when I go home, do I?"

"Joan!" Fox said in an aggrieved tone.

Wolf raised an eyebrow, tempted to take offense, but deciding on indifference as the best way to diffuse the situation. "I shouldn't think so. This is my night off and I planned to spend it with this guy right here. But if you want a guarantee, I'm always open to a little bribery..."

"Wol—!" Fox began and just caught himself from giving truth to the charade they were barely maintaining.

"Bribery, huh?" Joan said, eyes twinkling despite the apparent seriousness with which she considered the offer. "How about this...free food, free drinks, free VIP access for life. Oh, and if you refrain from starting any brawls or groping anyone aside from that guy, I'll resist the urge to call the cops and earn my fifteen minutes of fame."

Wolf pretended to think it over and nodded. "Works for me. Barring any drastic action on your part, I'll consider myself bound by verbal contract."

"Excellent!" Joan said with a clap of her hands and an exaggerated salute before she strode off in the direction of the stairs. "Have fun, you crazy kids! And remember if you've got nowhere else to go and nothing better to do, you're always welcome here."

Fox gusted out a breath of air once she was gone. "Shit. I'm sorry about that. I had no idea she knew who I was."

"It's fine."

"No, but she recognized you! She recognized us both! What if someone else...oh God, what if _anyone_ else...we shouldn't be here together, it's too dangerous!"

"Hey, take it easy!" Wolf said, taking him by the shoulders when Fox would have jumped to his feet and coaxing him back down, though he couldn't do anything about the tremor in his shoulders. "Shut up and listen. It's a one-off thing, it doesn't matter. Even if she talks, nobody'll believe it. They won't believe it even if someone snaps a pic and posts it all over the media."

"...my team would believe it," Fox said in sick dread.

 _So would mine,_ Wolf thought with an uneasy twinge in his gut. He couldn't imagine what kind of shitstorm would await him at Sargasso if the secret ever came out. No, that was a lie, he _could_ imagine it. He envisioned it every damn time he came within five steps of Fox, every time they fell into bed together and succumbed to weakness in each other. It was always there, that little niggling fear of being discovered, those moments when he looked at Fox and weighed the hazards and couldn't make up his mind on whether it was all worth it.

Fox leaned forward and passed a hand across his face, shaking his head and mumbling the next words into his hands, never raising his eyes from the blank surface of the table in front of him. "Wolf? Should we...?"

 _Not do this anymore._ Wolf could sense those words coming and felt his throat constrict as he waited for them to fall. But then his ears pricked up when the band down below struck up a new song, that Joan woman humming into the microphone, and his heart faltered again as the softer cadence and familiar lyrics of an old song washed over him, bringing him right back to that stormy day on Corneria. Fox also twitched in surprise, and he and Wolf traded looks of shared awe and delight at the providential fluke, their fingers twining together.

" _We lead too different lives just like two lines that never cross... And here we are together standing closer than we are... But we're still standing here untouched... Too scared to make a move..._ "

"You know what?" Wolf murmured. "I don't regret a damn thing."

"Really?"

Wolf smiled and leaned over to steal a kiss from willing lips. "Yeah. Really."

" _We want so much to touch, and we can't wait forever... We know it's dangerous for us to be togetheeeer!_ "


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N. Warning: Sexual scenes toward the end of this chapter (or the tail end of it, at least). If that's not your thing, then stop reading when you reach the big giant "italics" portion. But honestly...this is a yaoi fic, people. If you've made it this far, I would assume you're not bothered by a little bit of T-rated explicitness.  
_

Chapter Three

 **Two Months Ago**

Surprisingly, once they got past the initial stage of trying to kill each other again, he and Fox had no issues remaining civil. Wolf wasn't sure if that relieved him or stressed him out even more, and in the interest of self-preservation, he directed all that nervous energy into trying to get inside Fox's head and figure out what his angle was. Because there had to be one. There was no way he was going through all this in the interest of _getting to know_ Wolf. There had to be a hidden agenda, something vindictive and underhanded behind all this...

...but then again, this was _Fox_ he was talking about. Wolf couldn't claim to know him very well on a personal level, but based on all past experience, the man was painfully honest in most things he did and said, not a deceitful bone in his body. If Fox wanted to stab him in the back, then he had thrown the chance away the moment he let go of his blaster. Conversely, if Fox wanted to get in his pants—which Wolf was having less and less of a problem with—then he was taking his sweet time about it.

So what was he after? Was Fox just enjoying the attention, the chance to string him along and have the upper hand? Or was he in the same boat as Wolf, mentally acknowledging the attraction while refusing to act on it for very valid reasons?

Wolf mulled it over while keeping a tight lid on his every word and gesture, always conscious of the fact that he was sitting side by side with an enemy who couldn't be trusted to keep any secrets. His standoffish approach should have heaped even more awkwardness on an already awkward situation, and privately Wolf hoped that would at some point drive Fox to give up and walk away.

But the idiot was either stubborn or determined or just plain oblivious and kept on pestering him. Kept on poking and prodding and picking apart everything Wolf said until he became so exasperated that he forgot to be vigilant. He even began to play along, countering the questions with answers that ranged from vaguely improbable to downright ridiculous, then sitting back with a deadpan air and watching Fox try to sort out what was true and what wasn't. It backfired, of course, because Fox took the evasions in stride and always had another question ready, no matter how trivial. It was comically quaint to see him trying so hard, the inquisitive tilt of his head and the way his ears flicked when he was annoyed or confused, the smile that lit up his face on the rare occasions he wrangled out an honest answer. And Wolf couldn't complain either about the two-way exchange, the curious little tidbits that Fox readily offered up about himself and that Wolf had never bothered to wonder about until now.

"You're not serious."

"No, I am!" Fox insisted. "For the longest time, I thought my dad was a space cowboy!"

"And you were how old again?"

"I dunno, five?" Fox said with a careless shrug. "I didn't really get the concept of a mercenary at the time. All I knew was my dad flew around all over the system shooting down the bad guys and helping random people and everybody thought he was kind of awesome. Then one day I watched some holodrama about old time cowboys on Katina, and well there you go."

Wolf shook his head. "Unbelievable. So what'd your old man think of all this?"

Fox snickered. "Oh, he _loved_ it. He never tried to correct me, he just kind of went along with it until I figured it out on my own. One year for a theme party, we even dressed in matching costumes with the big ten gallon hats and boots and Star Fox jackets and everything."

Wolf took a moment to contemplate that mental image. "Okay, _that's_ fucking adorable," he admitted.

"I wish I'd kept the pic," Fox said with a wistful air. At some point he had taken a seat on the bench again, and now he slumped lower with his legs stretched out, the flicker of happiness fading. "But you don't really think about those things in the moment, you know? I didn't even remember we did that until just now..."

Wolf glanced at him, the mood taking on a dose of pensive melancholy, and an uncomfortable feeling gripped him. A feeling that he should say something, offer some reassurance or comfort, but his mind was drawing a blank. Empathy wasn't exactly his strong point...and that aside, it wasn't his place to talk about James. He dropped his fourth cigarette to be crushed under his boot. "Next topic," he grunted.

"What, I don't get to hear about your theme party costumes?" Fox teased, though his smile was weak.

"Never dressed up for a thing in my life," Wolf said bluntly. He thought for a moment and adopted a lecherous grin. "Though now that you mention it, I wouldn't say no to a little BDSM roleplay..."

Fox raised his eyebrows. "Are you asking?"

Wolf mimicked his look. "Are you volunteering?"

"God, no! You and me and cuffs and whips? Someone's bound to get hurt before the end."

"I thought that was the point."

"L-Let's talk about something else!" Fox blurted out, pointedly looking the other way, and Wolf didn't miss the raised hackles and dilated pupils, the mouthwatering taste of arousal scenting the air between them. Wolf _almost_ said something...but changed his mind and bit his tongue brutally. He really needed to stop that. His self-control was flimsy enough, rapidly crumbling every time he teased and hinted just for the secret pleasure of making Fox squirm. He had sworn to himself that nothing would happen, and damn it nothing _would_ happen if his brain had any say in the matter. But his body was having other ideas, and he knew...Wolf _knew_...that if Fox were to take the initiative, reach for him in a way that was anything but innocent, he would have a very hard time doing the smart thing and keeping himself from responding in kind.

It was. Just. So. _Frustrating_.

"...when did you realize you preferred men?"

"What?" Wolf said, and it took him a moment to process the question because he couldn't remember the last time anyone had the balls to ask. He breathed deeply to calm the instinctive flare of explosive rage, the string of curses that longed to spew forth. "No comment."

Fox looked at him in surprise. "Why not? Seems like one of the few things we'd have in common."

"No. Comment."

"Would it help if I went first?" Fox offered with that infuriating thoughtfulness that Wolf was growing to despise. "I actually prefer women most of the time, but there have been a few...strong exceptions. Exceptions that I mostly regretted and really would have been better off ignoring in the heat of the moment. I mean, case and point."

"I'm not talking about this."

"And it's not something I openly broadcast either," Fox went on. "I can't imagine how embarrassing it would be if everyone in my life knew, and I _really_ don't want the whole damn system spreading rumors about my sex life..."

Wolf snarled with such vehemence that it visibly startled Fox. "I told you, I'm not talking about this!"

"Wolf, you know I won't judge you..."

"I don't care about your _judgement_ ," Wolf spat. "You think I give two shits what anyone thinks of me? I know what I am, I've been-there-done-that with the whole denial phase. I _don't_ need to relive it. Ask me anything else but that!"

"Fine," Fox said, slowly like he feared the resultant tantrum. "How did you lose your eye?"

"Fuck, is _nothing_ sacred to you?" Wolf burst out and jumped to his feet. Fox said nothing, staring with wide eyes, and Wolf realized he was shaking and pallid beneath his fur, hot with emotion and cold with remembrance. He turned and paced away, conscious of Fox watching him all along.

"Sorry," Fox said at last. "If it's a painful memory, then you don't have to talk about details. I was just...curious about the general circumstances."

Wolf gave a rancorous chuckle. "Trust me, you don't want even that much."

"Was it an accident? A fight?"

"My father shot me."

He expected and felt vindicated by the sudden, sharp intake of breath, the loaded silence that followed. It was exactly what he intended with the shocking bluntness of the statement. Wolf waited, halfway praying for a stammered apology and rapid subject change, maybe nervous laughter at what was clearly a bad joke. But when he risked a look back, Fox was staring at him in muted horror and not a trace of disbelief. "That's not funny."

"No, it really wasn't," Wolf agreed.

"Wolf," Fox said, slowly rising. Still looking right at Wolf, at his missing eye, in a way no one else had ever dared. A way that made him appreciate fully the difference between pity and compassion. "Did that really happen? Are you telling the truth?"

Wolf shook his head but not in denial, arms crossed as he turned further away to buy time, searching for the right words to bury those old wounds and make Fox stop looking at him like that. But for the first time in his life, the pain refused to be bottled up and ignored now that it was in the presence of a sympathetic ear. And he found himself talking in a low voice, sharing the first real thing about himself.

"He was aiming for my boyfriend. Caught us in bed together. I was fifteen."

"...oh," Fox murmured. It was possibly the most understanding _oh_ that Wolf had ever received. He heard Fox stepping closer and twitched when he felt a hand rest lightly on his arm. "I-I don't know what to say."

"Don't bother then," Wolf muttered, hoping to save them both the embarrassment. But Fox had other ideas in mind, and Wolf nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a pair of arms slip around his waist and hold him tight, a lithe body pressed up against his back and causing his nerves to tingle with awareness. "I don't need a goddamn _hug_ , you idiot!"

"Too bad," Fox declared and stayed right where he was. His nose nuzzled the back of Wolf's neck and snuck under the edge of his collar, breath fluttering against his fur and causing his mouth to run dry. Wolf slid his hands down to rest on Fox's forearms, and he sensed his rival minutely relax against him, the moment shifting from unwelcome and invasive to strangely intimate. In spite of the icy rain surrounding their little gazebo, in spite of the memory twisting its knife and doing its best to gut him, Wolf felt warm and sheltered and content in his vulnerability. It had been so long since he had thought of that, since he remembered what he had lost...he had nearly forgotten what it was like to be held like this. And Wolf hated himself for wanting to turn around and wrap Fox in his arms and pretend this was something he could have.

"Feel better at all?"

"No," Wolf snorted. _Because I'm so damn into with you that it's not even funny, and you're not making it any easier, you can't be blind to what you're doing to me._

"Oh," Fox said, sounding embarrassed, and he let go. "Sorry."

"No," Wolf said and turned quickly to face him. Then, fearing that his need was plain to see, he leaned back with his hands braced on the railing. "It's just...not the kind of thing that gets better with an apology."

"Did you ever...reconcile with...?"

But Fox trailed off, catching the hint from the disgusted look Wolf threw him. "I got him back the night I left for good," he growled. "And before you ask, don't bother. Let's just call it my first felony and leave it at that."

Fox pulled a face at his vindictiveness and sighed. "Can't blame you, I guess. Bastard like that who would hurt his own kid, I can't imagine having a father like that."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Wolf muttered, envy burning hot in his heart. "Must've been nice having a famous dad, who I'll bet was just completely _fine_ with having a freak for a son. He probably gave you the whole supportive spiel, told you he still loved you and he'd stand by you against all the evil bigots..."

"No," Fox murmured, prompting Wolf to shut his mouth. "I...I never told him about it. I never got the chance. I was going to...after he came back from Venom."

"...oh," Wolf said slowly once that realization sank in. And now he was the one left without words, floundering for something to say that wouldn't ignite a powder keg of bad feelings and blame. He coughed. "Shit. This just got awkward."

"It's only awkward if we let it be," Fox said with unexpected pragmatism. When Wolf met his eyes uncertainly, Fox held his gaze with a slight sympathetic smile. "I know you didn't kill him, Wolf. I know that was just a rumor Andross put out there to make sure we'd fight. But...you really had nothing to do with it, did you?"

There was no real question in that last sentence, not a hint of reservation in his eyes. Wolf parted his lips, shocked by both the declaration and the reaction it evoked in him. He hadn't fully realized how crippling the burden had been, how the deceit had weighed on him and grown heavier with the passing of time. To the point where it was physically painful to see the looks of fear and loathing for a crime he hadn't committed, a notoriety he hadn't earned, and yet the lie was so deeply ingrained that even in his own head it was difficult to refute.

"All this time," Fox murmured. "All this time, I've been blaming the wrong person. Why'd you let everyone believe it was you?"

Wolf tried to speak and ended up having to turn his face away quickly. It hurt. It actually fucking _hurt_ , like an old aching wound finally tended to after being endured for too many long years. And in its place was left such a feeling of relief, of _gratitude_ , that Wolf knew it wouldn't have meant half as much if this acknowledgement had come from someone else. "I don't know. Seemed like a good idea at the time. And...oh hell, I was just a damn kid. Freshly promoted and about to fight in a war. Who doesn't want that kind of reputation?"

"Can you tell me...who did kill him?"

Wolf hesitated, a little unnerved by the carefully flat affect that Fox had donned, so different from his usual highly animated state. "I don't know."

"Oh, come on..."

"I really don't," Wolf snapped. "He was taken prisoner, that's all I know. Taken down belowground where Andross kept his little playground. Where all the bioweapons were created."

Fox blanched. "He was experimented on?"

Wolf shrugged, for once grateful he couldn't confirm it. "Working for Andross, you learn not to ask those kinds of questions. All I know is...I never saw a body. Not much was left of the failures."

At first Fox looked like he wanted to demand further explanation, and then he just looked like he wanted to be sick. He braced his hands on the railing, head bowed as he breathed deeply several times. "I always knew...I was always afraid it was something like that. Now I kind of wish you _had_ killed him. Going down in a fiery wreck in his Arwing, at least that would've been quick."

Wolf privately agreed, but tactfully kept his mouth shut. Fox blew out a harsh breath and shook his head, visibly trying to regain his composure while Wolf averted his eyes and let him have his moment. It was only fair. The pup had done the same for him, granted empathy and silent solace against painful memories.

"Wolf? Thanks."

"For what?"

Fox didn't look at him, but he didn't have to because it was all there in his voice. "For telling me the truth. For not sugarcoating it like everyone else tries to."

"...yeah," Wolf said and wished he could find the words to express his own gratitude. He stared at the back of his head where the stripe of white fur blended into vivid orange at the nape of his neck, darker in this gloomy light and thick and soft-looking. Wanting to caress and nuzzle him there and guide him in for a kiss, no matter how untimely it was.

Somehow he managed not to. Somehow Wolf found it in him to hold back and respect the silence until Fox had gathered himself, at some point making a show of checking his comm and shocked to see that three hours had passed since they came here. Three solid hours without either of them trying to commit murder in the first degree or any degree for that matter. That had to be some sort of record.

"Three _hours?_ " Fox said blankly when Wolf informed him at an appropriate juncture. He glanced at their dreary surroundings. "And it's still raining?"

"Apparently," Wolf replied as he tugged his hood up. Seeing the look of disappointment that Fox gave him, he shook his head. "You got your half an hour. We're done here. And I think it goes without saying, but...repeat anything I said here and I'll fucking gut you."

"Duly noted," Fox said with a roll of his eyes. "Hey. I know it's not what we agreed on, but can we do this again sometime?"

Wolf paused, wary at this sudden persistence. "You said you didn't want anything from me."

"What, another conversation is too much to ask?"

"That's...not a good idea," Wolf faltered. "You might not care about your reputation, but I'm not about to lose valuable contacts and allies because I was seen in public with _you_."

Fox put his hackles up and looked like he dearly wanted to argue, but ended up crossing his arms with a miffed noise. "Yeah okay, I get it. It's just...gonna be weird to go back to the way things were. I almost preferred it when I didn't know anything about you. You're not exactly the person I thought you were."

Wolf raised a cynical eyebrow. "You think you know me after one conversation?"

In the act of picking up his umbrella from the bench, Fox smirked. "I know you a lot better now than before...Wolfus?"

"Goddammit, that's not my name either!"

"You know I'll never stop guessing, right?"

"Shut up before I punch you, _Marcus_."

Fox threw his head back, laughing hard at his expense and leaving Wolf bemused at the rapid mood swing. He put up his umbrella, and with a quick grin and wave over his shoulder, he was gone. Stepping into the rain and slogging up the muddy path without a backward glance, the buoyant gait and swishing tail drawing Wolf's eye and igniting unwelcome thoughts until he lifted his gaze to the heavens and prayed for willpower. That hadn't gone anything like he expected. Wolf wasn't sure _what_ he'd expected, but it hadn't been civility or understanding or common ground where there had once only been bitter opposition. And he definitely hadn't expected it to end the way it did, with the sight of Fox walking away from him while his throat ached and yearned to cry out his name, call him back...

This was for the best, Wolf told himself as he stepped into the rain and began to walk a different path, one that would take him further away from his infuriatingly gorgeous and gorgeously infuriating rival. Wondering the whole time what Fox thought of this, if he really expected it to end this way. If he _wanted_ it to end this way.

 _I don't want it to end this way._

Wolf stopped, head bowed down as that realization washed over him, colder than the rain and yet exultant in its own way. He turned back to look in the direction where Fox had been walking, the foliage blocking his line of sight. And Wolf found himself moving. First a walk and then a jog and then a full out sprint, rain dripping into his eye and mud splattering his legs, the feeling of fateful calamity swelling in his chest and making it hard to breathe...

* * *

 **Present**

"It's _raining?_ " Fox moaned in disbelief as they stood in the doorway of the nightclub. The squall had hit the town at last and it was a glorious one indeed, the water coming down in sheets and the lightning igniting the Zonessian sky at short spastic intervals. The waiting line outside the club had evaporated into nothingness, only the bouncers in sight huddled under the eaves and passing around a cigarette, the streets cleared of basically everyone as tourists and locals alike dove for cover.

Wolf readjusted the windbreaker on his shoulders and cast an amused look at Fox, who was rubbing his arms and shuddering in his thin-woven shirt, complaining loudly over the thunder. "This is Zoness! It's supposed to be sunny all the time!"

"That's only on the postcards," Wolf pointed out. "It's called advertising, and you wouldn't be the first moron to fall for it."

"Let me borrow your jacket."

"Why should I?" Wolf snorted, about to zip up the windbreaker, when out of nowhere Fox side-slammed him into the wall of the building. He barked in surprise and then in surprised outrage when the windbreaker was wrestled from his shoulders and Fox took off at a sprint into the pouring rain. Cursing and slapping the wall, Wolf took off after him, not really minding the rain since it was warm and tropical and felt divinely refreshing after the stifled air of the club.

"Get back here, you little fucker!"

"Nope!" Fox cried, laughing wildly as he yanked the windbreaker on, the gray material flapping open and flaring out behind him like a pair of wings. Wolf shouted more curses as they splashed through the streets and alleys, which may or may not have scandalized the few people who overheard, but he had also bared his teeth in a grin of wild abandon. Remembering all those times he had run carefree beneath the Zoness sun, and then all the times he had chased after Fox in his Wolfen but never quite managed to catch him. Somehow it was _always_ Wolf who ended up caught off guard in ways he least expected. Forced to concede and acknowledge that Fox was the only one who could still surprise him, challenge him, humble him in ways he never imagined. But then instead of gloating or finishing him off, Fox would extend a hand and help Wolf to his feet and demand they do it all over again.

And no matter how many times it happened, no matter how much the rules had changed over the years, no matter if it all ended in glorious flames and tragedy, Wolf knew he would never tire of this game they played.

Fox vaulted up some slippery stairs and dashed across the deserted boardwalk onto a long pier jutting out into the sea. Wolf pursued, seeing victory in sight as Fox halted a few short steps from the edge and the crashing water below, which afforded Wolf the chance to seize his arm and wrench him around, hands gripped tight on his biceps in case he tried to escape. But Fox seemed content with his ensnarement, smirking up at him from within the hood like he had Wolf right where he wanted him. Water dripped down his face and neck, little droplets clinging to individual strands of fur and begging to be licked away. For a long moment Wolf just stared at the stunning image it made, heated desire humming along his nerves and making his pulse thunder in his ear, the breath robbed from his lungs.

To think...to think there had been a time not long ago when he thought he couldn't have this, when he didn't _want_ this. A time when he had stood just like this under a much colder rain with Fox tense and fearful in his arms, startled by Wolf's reappearance, one hand on his chest to keep him back while the other tightly gripped the umbrella like Fox couldn't decide whether to bash him over the head or not.

But then...

 _Wolf leaned in closer, eyes half lidded as he lightly brushed his nose along Fox's muzzle, making his intentions clear, but not daring to actually close that distance. Terrified of what he was doing, resigned to whatever insanity had possessed him, fully expecting either a fist to his jaw or a blaster shot to his gut. Fox shuddered hard, a tight noise caught in his throat as his fingers fisted in Wolf's shirt. Hot shaky breaths washed over his lips as Fox tentatively turned his head and returned the probing nuzzle, which was all the invitation Wolf needed._

 _Wolf sucked in a vital gulp of air and rasped. "I can't fucking take this anymore."_

 _Fox opened his eyes. "Oh, thank God," he whispered and dropped the umbrella..._

...and Fox's lips were in his and kissing hard, like the taste of Wolf was something he couldn't live without. Wolf snuck his hands beneath the windbreaker and trailed his fingers along his waist, claws teasing at the hem of his pants before he wrapped Fox in his arms and held him tight, not about to let go for anything in the universe. Ocean waves pounded at the pier and the wind and rain threatened to knock them over, but they braced their feet and supported each other against the elements, a defiance that lasted only until they were both drenched and the need to breathe overcame blind lust.

"Did you mean what you said?" Fox murmured against his lips. "You really don't regret any of it?"

Wolf blinked and pulled back a little bit. "I don't make a habit of lying about these things.

"But," Fox said, sounding distraught, and he looked up at Wolf wretchedly, "what happens when it's over? What then? What happens when it all blows up in our faces?"

Wolf opened his mouth and shut it again, struggling for an answer, unsettled by the intrusion of a reality that he spent so much time trying to ignore. At times like this he never knew whether to bless or curse the universe for constantly throwing them together, for all the losses and fateful events and trials by fire which had led them to this point. What they had was by no means perfect, and it definitely wasn't commitment in the conventional sense. But it was unique, it was intense, and like a dying star it was dazzling in its own beautifully doomed way. It wasn't the sort of thing that was meant to last forever, but Wolf for his part was determined to savor it for however long it did because no one, _no one_ could ever have what they had.

"We can't control that," Wolf said at last. He slipped his hands inside the hood and tenderly cupped his face, weirdly protective at the thought of how much Fox was risking for him. And in a curious sort of turnaround, he wondered for the first time if Fox thought that _he_ was worth it. "We can't control what happens with other people. We can only control ourselves."

Fox gave him an odd look. "Uh, no? We really can't control ourselves. That's kind of the point."

"Shut up, I'm trying to do a thing here," Wolf said in mild annoyance. "Look, what I'm saying is...these things never have a way of turning out how you plan. So there's no point in planning. We shouldn't decide things now because of what _might_ happen in the future. And...if this has to end...then I don't want it to be because we were too damn spineless to see it through."

Fox hesitated, teetering on the edge, and it seemed an age before he surrendered and let Wolf draw him back into his arms. "I don't want that either," he whispered.

"Good," Wolf said and meant to leave it at that, but changed his mind. "By the way...you call me Amaroq ever again and you're going down."

"...you'll have to be more specific," Fox deadpanned. " _Going_ _down_ could mean a lot of things coming from you."

"Fucking _wiseass_. It means I'm gonna take the nearest sharp object and—"

" _Wolf_. You still talk too much. Shut up."

"Fine, but—"

"No, seriously. Shut. Up."

"...fine," Wolf subsided with a muted grumble. He nuzzled the fur on Fox's head and received a pleased hum in return, the sound thrumming right through his core and silencing that pesky little voice of reason trying to hold him back. For now, he savored the feel of Fox so close to him, the sanctuary of his arms, the very last place he had expected to find refuge in secrecy. The very last _person_ he expected to find it with. After some time they left the pier together, no words passing between them, but Wolf could still hear that old song resounding in his mind as they walked and happily lost himself in a haze of remembrance...

 _"I watch you coming to me, walking in the pouring rain... I can't help looking at you, wishing I could stay away..."_

 _Wolf pricked his ears to the soft music originating from the hovercar's radio, clearly audible now that the rain had stopped, sighed and glanced from the steamed up windows down to the vulpine in his arms, sprawled on top of him with sated eyes and not a stitch of clothing, still panting and sweating heavily from what they had just done. This time completely sober with no excuses or apologies, not even waiting to find a bed, barely waiting long enough to clamber into the backseat of Fox's parked hovercar. Thank all that was holy Fox had lube stashed in the center console._ Just in case, _he had said sheepishly when he pulled it out, and so Wolf hadn't felt quite so stupid when he produced condoms from his own back pocket, though he had very much enjoyed seeing Fox's astonished jaw drop._

 _He shouldn't have enjoyed seeing that. He shouldn't have enjoyed any of it as much as he had. But here he was anyway, basking in afterglow, skimming his hands over the toned lines of a body he had fantasized about and brooding over how much better it was to have the real thing at last. His patchy memory had not deceived him in that regard. Fox loved as fiercely as he fought, not a trace of hesitation or timidity, an almost ideal blend of aggression and surrender. Not that it was_ all _perfection. There were hidden scars beneath soft orange fur and not as much muscle as he expected, but Wolf couldn't care less about such trifling flaws. He was no supermodel himself...and as far as he could remember, Fox was the only bedpartner who hadn't balked at the removal of his eyepatch or looked away from the ghastly sight of an empty socket. That, to Wolf, was more of a turn on than anything else, and that was the point when all thoughts of holding back were lost. Even now that the act was over, he couldn't bear to just throw on his clothes and flee the scene like he had the first time. No, not this time, not with Fox so relaxed and blissful in his arms, so willing to take everything he had to offer. He couldn't have pried himself away if there was a gun to his head._

 _Wolf sighed again. "There is something seriously wrong with us," he muttered._

 _"Just now figuring that out?" Fox commented. But Wolf could see that he was also shaken, expression pinched with worry and the beginnings of shame. He ducked his head and kissed Wolf's neck tenderly, palm spread out against his chest and tracing the muscles there. "Can't believe...how weak I am..."_

 _"No weaker than I am," Wolf said and let his eyes flutter shut, unable to grasp how such a chaste, almost reverent, touch could render him powerless. But he looked down when the lips paused, unnerved by the way Fox was staring up at him. "What? What's with that look?"_

 _Fox shook his head slowly, a pleased smile finding its way to his face. "Nothing. Just...you know, when I told you about how long I've wanted this, I expected you to be more of a jerk about it. I thought you'd..."_

 _"What? Take advantage of you? Just because I could?"_

 _"I knew that might be a possibility," Fox admitted, and it troubled Wolf to hear the fatalism in those words, the implication that Fox had been willing to take whatever he could get, regardless of the degradation that might come with it. "You've been known to take any advantage you could."_

 _"...and you let me fuck you again anyway?"_

 _Fox propped his head up on one hand. "Yeah well, I'm a daddy's boy with self-esteem issues, what's your excuse?"_

 _Wolf chuckled in spite of himself, idly trailing his claws up and down Fox's spine. "Oh, me? I'm a war criminal and all around delinquent, also with self-esteem issues, considering I've just slept with a man I've been trying to kill for...what, five years now? I'd be a damn hypocrite if I tried to pretend this isn't something I wanted too."_

 _"Really? Since when?"_

 _"Do the math, McCloud. Pretty much ever since I woke up in that hotel and found you next to me. Let's just say...you opened my mind to the possibilities."_

 _It was just a statement of the facts, but from Fox's radiant smile and enthusiastic reaction, one might have thought Wolf had vowed his eternal love and devotion. Not that he was complaining. Oh no, not at_ all _. Wolf settled his hands on Fox's hips and pushed himself upright, never breaking the kiss, Fox moving with him until he straddled Wolf with his hands gripped on the seat back for leverage, gradually winding them both up with the slow grind of his hips._

 _Wolf hissed between his teeth, urgency rising in him, then dampening as he concluded that the cramped confines of a hovercar wasn't going to cut it for round two. "Let's go somewhere. Now."_

 _Fox drew back and looked into his eyes, appearing almost captivated as he swallowed hard and caught his breath. "Y-Yeah. Probably better."_

 _It took some doing, but somehow they managed to take their hands off each other, though Wolf's body keened at the temporary loss, the temptation of that beautiful body hidden by layers of clothing once again. They relocated to the front seats and Fox made to start the car, every motion clumsy and the line of this shoulders tense. But even after revving up the engine, he paused with his hands on the wheel and didn't move._

 _"What's wrong?"_

 _Fox turned a weak smile on him. "N-Nothing. It's just...I can't believe I'm doing this. With_ you _, of all people! It doesn't freak you out just a little bit?"_

 _Wolf faltered and managed a small nod, watching his rival and struck by a sense of unreality, possibly the same feeling that had given Fox pause. "So...what happens next? Is this just gonna be a one-off thing, or what?"_

 _Fox hesitated. "Well...let's think about it. We could do the usual thing, freak out and try to kill each other again, which let's face it is just compensating for our own insecurities. Or we could make awkward conversation while I could drive you to the starport, and eventually shake hands and go back to our lives like none of it ever happened."_

 _Wolf pulled a face at both of those options. "Or?"_

 _"Or," Fox said with a crafty glint in his eye, "we could trade comm numbers, swear to keep this a secret, and fuck again whenever we want. What do you say, O'Donnell? Think we can get away with it?"_

 _Immensely relieved for no cause he could name, Wolf chuckled and reached over to ruffle the fur on his head. "Knew there was a reason I kept coming after you all these years. I could never say no to a challenge like that..."_

* * *

 _A.N. As you can probably tell, this started mainly as an indulgence fic (hellooooo, Rockstar McCloud!), but at some point the flashback portions became more interesting to write than the main story, and I got a LITTLE carried away. I couldn't figure out a good way to split off the Corneria flashback into its own story, and the Zoness story didn't feel complete without it, so the whole thing became a juggling act as I tried to work out where to split the scenes (and the chapters, oy) without losing the thread of either storyline. It was an interesting and stimulating exercise, but now I'm very glad to be done with it so I can move on. I really, really want to contribute something meaningful to this fandom and pairing, and I've got waaay too many Wolf/Fox ideas on the brain and not enough time to write them all. Where's a Time-Turner when I need one?_


End file.
